FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 
REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,  D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON   THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


Section        /  T  4*^7 


4 


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.AN.V.K^.     V       N.*VviM    *5 


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FLOWERS  OF  AITTITMK 


BY    THE    AUTHORESS   OF    THE 
^  COTTAGE  MINSTREL." 

TO  WHICH  IS  ADDED, 

A   PEW   PIECES 

ST  A  YOUWe  FBMALE,  LATE  OF  THIS  CITT-  DEC5*. 


PHILADELPHIA. 

PRINTED  FOR  THE  AUTHORESS. 

J.  KKJHABDS,  PRINTF.B 

1*128 


[Copy-right  secured  according  to  Law.] 


PREFACE. 

In  offering  this  little  work  for  public  patron- 
age, the  Authoress  is  glad  of  the  opportunity  to 
express  her  grateful  acknowledgment  to  her 
friends  and  others,  for  the  favourable  reception 
they  gave  her  little  volume,  lately  published;  and 
as  the  same  cause  exists  that  then  induced  her 
to  expose  the  effusions  of  her  pen,  namely,  the 
desire  of  procuring  the  means  of  support,  she 
trusts  they  will  receive  what  she  now  offers  with 
equal  kindness.  The  pieces  which  compose  it 
were  chiefly  written  during  her  recovery  from  a 
fit  of  tedious  illness,  from  which  she  has  been 
recently  restored ;  a  few  of  the  pieces  had  been 
written  in  early  life,  and  were  returned  to  the 
authoress  by  an  aunt,  to  whom  she  had  given 
them.  The  title  she  has  chosen  for  her  present 
volume  she  thinks  is  an  appropriate  one, — not 
only  on  account  of  the  variety  and  sombre  com- 
plexion of  some  of  the  pieces,  together  with  the 
J* 


6 

various  afflictions  that  have  fallen  to  her  lot,  but 
also  feeling  herself  in  some  degree  on  an  equal- 
ity with  the  poor  flower-girl,  who,  perhaps,  like 
herself,  has  seen  better  days, — yet  the  desire  of 
independence  urges  her  to  the  necessity  of  ask- 
ing from  door  to  door, — "  Do  you  want  to  buy 
any  flowers  to-day?"  and  though  she,  as  well  as 
myself,  may  meet  with  some  who,  without  placing 
themselves  in  a  similar  situation,  will  spurn  our 
little  offerings  with  contempt,  yet  a  conscious- 
ness that  our  motive  is  at  least  laudable,  if  not 
praiseworthy,  we  may  take  courage  to  persevere 
in  the  innocent  and  only  way  of  support  that 
Providence  has  placed  within  our  reach. 

Tue  Author, 

P.  S.  The  pieces  annexed  to  this  little  volume 
are  the  production  of  a  young  female,  late  of  this 
city — but  now,  I  trust,  an  inhabitant  of  a  better. 
As  they  are  considered  by  the  authoress  an  em- 
bellishment to  her  own  work,  she  gratefullr  a<- 
r-epts  them. 


> 


TO  THE  READER. 

Just  cull'd  from  artless  Nature's  bowers. 
I  here  present  you  with  some  flowers ; 
'Tis  true,  from  recent  frosts  severe, 
That  some  of  them  look  wan  and  sear ; 
Others  a  sombre  hue  sustain, 
Steep'd  in  the  cold  autumnal  rain ; 
Yet,  here  and  there,  a  sprig  is  seen, 
That  still  retains  its  native  green : 
While  some  admire  the  sprightly  hue, 
The  darker  shades  may  please  a  few, 
And  while  they  please,  this  truth  convey, 
That  beauty  soon  must  fade  away; 
And  tho'  to  vie,  they  don't  presume, 
With  garden  flowers  in  summer  bloom, 
I  pluck'd  them  chiefly  from  the  vale, 
Or  where  the  heath-flower  scents  the  gn\c . 
A  few  I  pick'd,  in  youthful  pride, 
That  flourish'd  by  the  water  side ; 
And  some  I  gathered  near  the  yew, 
Upon  the  grave  of  love  they  grew; 
Those  little  faded  ones  I  chose 
Where  cherub  innocence  repose ; 
Blended  amid  the  shades  of  woe, 
See,  here  and  there,  a  crimson  glow ! 
I  cull'd  them  near  the  fount  that  flows 
Where  Calvary's  mount  sublimely  rose ; 
While  on  this  sickly  plant  we  trace 
The  cheerful  sun's  averted  face, 
And  mark  the  tempest's  angry  frown 
On  yonder  little  leaf  of  brown ; 


8 

See  Sol  his  brighter  beams  unfold 
To  deck  this  sprightly  marigold ; 
You'll  say  the  boughs,  so  sear  and  blight, 
Have  hid  the  marigold  from  sight ; 
Well !  I,  perhaps,  have  been  deceived, 
And  this  a  marigold  believed, 
Which,  scrutinized  by  critic  power, 
May  prove  a  poor  dandelion  flower. 
Though  I  admire  all  flowers  that  blow, 
I  am  no  botanist  I  know; 
They  are  the  best  that  I  can  bring, 
Intwined  in  white  and  sable  string ; 
Pray  take  them  then,  such  as  they  be, 
5Twas  simple  nature  gave  them  me, 
As  o'er  the  moorland  hill  or  dale, 
Or  wandering  through  my  native  vale, 
They  sooth'd  my  heart,  and  cheer'd  my  eyes. 
And  there  I  pluck'd  the  guiltless  prize 
Which  now  I  offer  to  your  bosoms ; 
Exchanging  for  your  fruit,  my  blossoms. 


•s 


% 


THE 


FLOWERS  OF  AUTUMN 


In  Memory  of  the  late  Joseph  Easthurn. 

Weep  Mariner !  what  star  of  equal  ray 
Shall  now  direct  thee  o'er  the  dangerous  way, 
Shall  point  the  road,  and  by  its  lustre  guide 
Thee  to  the  coast  where  tempests  all  subside  ? 
Weep  Mariner !  that  star  no  more  shall  rise, 
In  gloom,  to  light  thee,  or  of  rocks  apprize ; 
From  dangerous  shoals  no  more  direct  thy  way, 
Or  point  where  rapid  whirlpools  eddying  play. 
That  star  is  set !  yet  long  its  lingering  light 
Diffused  increasing  brightness  o'er  thy  night ; 
Till  from  the  vorge  of  time  it  glided  far, 
To  shine  in  heaven,  a  more  exalted  star. 
Oh !  may  some  other  orb,  with  radiance  fair, 
Lit  by  the  rays  that  long  hung  quiv'ring  here, 
With  equal  warmth,  with  equal  light  appear, 
To  point  to  dangers,  or  in  gloom  to  cheer; 
And  prove  a  second  Eastburn  in  your  hemi- 
sphere. 


10 


ON  CHRISTIAN  CHARITY. 

Tho'  different  sects  as  different  modes  pursue, 
In  paying  to  their  God,  his  worship  due, 
Which  with  an  eye  impartial  he  surveys, 
From  hearts  sincere,  accepts  the  grateful  praise ; 
Though  different  sects  as  different  roads  pursue. 
All  in  the  end  have  the  same  point  in  view. 
Heaven  is  the  object  where  our  wishes  tend. 
To  heaven  we  all  aspire  when  life  shall  end : 
While  the  great  sovereign  of  that  blest  abode, 
Is  pleas'd  to  see  his  children  in  the  road, 
To  him  it  matters  not  which  way  we  shew 
The  adoration  that  to  him  we  owe, 
Whether  in  vocal  strains  our  notes  we  raise, 
And  in  the  solemn  hymn  extol  his  praise ; 
In  Icily  psalms  our  grateful  voice  extend, 
Or  strive  by  vocal  prayers  the  heavens  to  rend ; 
Or  with  a  solemn  reverential  awe, 
Before  his  presence  we  in  silence  draw, 
With  contrite  heart  before  our  Father  bend, 
And  inward  prayer  that  will  to  heaven  ascend — 
Since  'tis  the  heart  alone  that  he  approves. 
And  'tis  the  ^ff'ring  that  alone  he  loves ; 
The  angelic  hosts  in  silence  oft  retire, 
Suspend  their  praise,  and  silently  admirr 


11 


LIBERTY. 

O'ercome  with  terror  and  dismaj , 
A  little  bird,  the  other  day, 

Into  our  parlour  flew  ; 
It  seem'd  alarmed  almost  to  death, 
And  panted  sadly  for  its  breath, 

A  piteous  sight  to  view. 

At  every  window  long  it  tried, 
But  found  a  passage  still  denied, 

Till  with  compassion  fraught, 
By  persevering  I  at  length 
Exhausted  all  its  little  strength, 

And  the  poor  captive  caught. 

Its  small  remaining  strength  had  fled. 
It  lay  within  my  hand  as  dead, 

Ah !  sad  captivity ! 
Poor  little  creature !  fear  no  harm — 
What  does  thy  gentle  breast  alarm? 

I'll  gladly  set  thee  free. 

Freedom's  to  every  creature  dear, 
Then  know,  thou  hast  no  cause  to  fear, 

Too  much  the  gem  I  prize ; 
I  would  not  hold  thee,  captive !  bound. 
Too  well  I  love  thy  cheering  sound. 

Sweet  tenant  of  the  skies'. 


v> 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  ALPS. 
A  Tale. 

Where  Alpine  mountains  rear  their  lofty  heads, 
A  fertile  vale  in  freshest  verdure  spreads ; 
And  tho'  the  heights  in  dazzling  white  appear, 
Luxuriant  Eden  seemed  to  blossom  here, 
AVhile  chrystal  waters  down  the  rocks  descend, 
And  to  the  humble  vale  fresh  beauties  lend. 
Here  a  few  scattered  cottages  were  seen, 
With  sheep  and  playful  goats  upon  the  green ; 
Or,  when  the  radiant  sun  descended  low, 
And  the  white  clouds  with  varied  colours  glow, 
The  flocks  at  call,  come  down  the  rugged  way, 
And  lambs  and  kids  in  sportive  gambols  play ; 
At  the  pure  stream  refresh'd,  they  seek  their  fold. 
And  sleep  secure  from  wolves  or  mountain  cold, 
As  Ajhe  keen  air  descending  cross'd  the  vale, 
And  blew  at  evening  hour  a  wintry  gale. 

Ah,  beauteous  vale!  where  Eden  seem'd  to 
bloom, 
And  flowers  and  shrubs  diffused  a  sweet  perfume; 
Even  where  the  awful  summits  tower'd.to  view, 
Adovvn  their  craggy  sides  the  wild-flower  grew. 
And  while  the  topmost  rocks  with  snows  were 

crown'd, 
The  fragrant  wild-rose  sheds  its  sweets  around. 

Ill-fated  valley !  all  thy  charms  so  fair, 
Thy  distant  spire,  that  spoke  the  house  of  prayer 


IS 

Thy  mothers,  children,  and  their  peaceful  home: 
Soon  found,  beneath  the  snows,  an  icy  tomb. 
The  sun,  whose  radiant  beams  more  potent  grew. 
As  the  approach  of  summer  nearer  drew, 
Dissolving  by  his  rays  the  mass  on  high, 
Like  a  huge  sheet  descending  from  the  sky ; 
Noiseless  as  death  the  mighty  deluge  bends, 
And  instant  o'er  the  beauteous  vale  descends. 
Now  the  full  moon  her  brightest  radiance  shed? 
And  the  glad  swain  to  seek  his  hamlet  sped ; 
Down  the  rough  way  his  cautious  steps  he  bends, 
Nor  dreams  of  all  the  sorrows  that  impends ; 
His  panting  bosom  glows  with  fond  desire 
To  join  his  little  group  and  evening  fire, 
While  his  glad  spouse,  with   grateful   feeling* 

fraught, 
Prepares  the  feast  that  for  her  sake  he  sought ; 
To  view  around  his  board  his  dearest  wealth, 
Their  mother,  and  his  blooming  sons  of  health. 
To  take  his  little  Blanche  on  his  knee, 
And  pass  the  evening  hours  in  harmless  glee  -, 
A  thousand  guiltless  joys,  beyond  control, 
Beguile  his  path  and  animate  his  soul ; 
And  still,  as  o'er  the  steeps  he  traced  his  way, 
He  pull'd  the  rose  to  make  his  cottage  gay ; 
Or  the  pure  lily  from  the  mountain's  crest, 
He  careful  pluck'd,  to  deck  his  fair  one's  breast ; 
Emblem  of  spotless  innocence,  and  fair 
As  the  fond  heart  that  beat  with  kindness  there. 
Such  pleasing  hopes  before  his  fancy  play, 
To  cheer  his  soul  and  smooth  his  rugged  way, 
When  lo!  emerging  from  the  shade  to  light. 
Gaining  the  last  descent  of  craggy  height. 
His  native  vale  burst  full  upon  his  sight'- 


14 

Instant  the  moon  in  cloudless  lustre  shone  1 
Instant  his  hopes  of  future  joys  were  gone! 
One  shapeless  mass  involved  his  lov'd  retreat, 
And  its  dear  inmates  in  one  winding  sheet ! 
With  agonizing  look  he  felt  the  blow, 
Then  headlong  plunged  beneath  the  o'erwhelm- 
ing  snow. 


HOPE. 

Oh,  thou  sweet  soother  of  our  mortal  cares ! 
How  should  we  live,  how  could  we  bear  the  woes 
Inflicted  on  our  race,  without  thy  aid? 
5Twas  kind  in  heaven  to  blend  thee  with  our  sor- 
rows, 
To  point  to  better  times,  to  happier  days ; 
In  life's  last  hour  to  see  thee  smile  serene, 
And  point  to  happiness  in  future  worlds! 
Oh  smiling  Hope!  attend  my  footsteps  still, 
Across  the  desert  of  this  nether  world  ; 
Desert  it  oft  has  prov'd ;  yet  here  and  there, 
A  fragrant  flower  I  find  ;  and,  cheer'd  by  thee ! 
Look   forward   still   for   more.    Sweet  smiling 

Hope! 
Be  my  companion  to  the  verge  of  time ; 
And  then  with  cheerful  aspect  trim  thy  lamp, 
To  light  me  safely  o'er  the  gloomy  vale, 
Where  rolls  the  darksome  stream,  whose  waves 

divide 
Our  desert  land  from  heaven's  enamelM  shorce. 


15 
LINES 

ADDRESSED  TO  E.  F.  N. 

I  thought  when  the  dark  clouds  were  hovering 
around  me, 
That  friendship  had  fled  from  the  regions  be- 
low; 
But,  sweet  charm  i  in  the  moment  of  need  I  have 
found  thee, 
And  feel  thy  warm  current  my  bosom  overflow ! 

Yes,  Friendship !  sweet  soother  of  my  youthful 
bosom, 
Thy  charms  by  affliction  were  hidden  from  me ; 
But  again  I  behold  thee  expanding,  sweet  blos- 
som, 
And  partake  of  the  fruit,  dear  Eliza,  from  thee! 

May  He,  whose  large  bounties  have  stor'd  the 
creation, 
On  thee,  and  on  thine,  every  blessing  bestow ; 
May  He  be  your  solace  in  every  probation, 
And  cheer  with  his  presence  each  moment  of 
woe. 

And  when  on  the  borders  of  Jordan  reclining, 
And  time  and  its  objects  recede  from  your 
sight, 
May  hope  shed  a  radiance  all  glorious  and  shi- 
ning, 
And  cheer  all  your  way  to  the  regions  of  light 


•t 


nOW  TO  COURT  THE  MUSE. 

Some  think  it  hard  to  court  the  muse ; 

I  find  the  task  a  pleasure ; 
I  let  her  be,  if  she  refuse, 

Or  bid  her  take  her  leisure. 

She'll  sometimes  at  a  distance  wait, 
In  hopes  I  still  will  woo  her ; 

Then  off  she  flies,  with  scorn  elate ; 
I  still  say  nothing  to  her. 

I  take  my  work,  whate'er  it  be, 
And  think  no  more  about  her ; 

Her  hovering  wing  I  quickly  see, 
When  I  can  do  without  her. 

She  takes  her  circles  round  and  round, 
Then  stops,  and  fluttering  o'er  me, 

She  from  her  motions  and  her  sound, 
To  notice  would  implore  me. 

But  if  I  find  her  fickle  still, 

And  make  as  if  she'd  leave  me, 

I  say,  my  dear  pray  take  thy  will, 
Of  peace  thou'lt  ne'er  bereave  me. 

liut  when  she  come3  in  kindly  mood, 

And  I  am  at  my  leisure, 
Her  gentle  visits  do  me  good, 

And  yield  my  bosom  pleasure. 


17 

Her  cheerful  smile,  her  cordial  glow, 

Exhilirate  my  spirit ; 
And  I  would  ne'er  her  charms  forego 

A  sceptre  to  inherit. 

She  soothes  the  sorrows  of  my  breast, 

And  bids  ill  humour  flee ; 
Exalts  my  heart,  with  cares  oppress'd, 

To  him,  who  lent  her  me. 

And  though  I  would  not  be  enslaved, 
Or  too  much  warmth  discover,    ' 

Yet  when  I  find  her  well  behaved, 
I'll  always  be  her  lover. 


hi  Memory  of  Joseph  C ,  aged  93  yean. 

Weary  pilgrim,  cease  to  mourn ! 

Thou  hast  gain'd  the  promised  land ! 
Go!  on  angels  pinions  borne, 

In  thy  saviour's  presence  stand! 

Happy  moment  of  release! 

From  the  clog  of  flesh  set  free, 
Go  enjoy  eternal  peace ! 

Angels  smile  to  welcome  thee. 

Gentle  spirit,  soul  resigned, 

Soaring  from  this  world  of  care ; 

Oh  could  I  thy  mantle  find, 
Of  thy  spirit  have  a  share. 


11 


Peler  the  Great  and  Peter  the  Small 
Addressed  to  P.  J.  C**. 

JMore  bless'd  than  Peter  on  a  throne. 

Is  Peter  in  a  cot ; 
As  proud  ambition  sway'd  the  one, 
While  cheerful  innocence  alone 

Is  lesser  Peter's  lot. 

Peter  the  great  had  wide  domain?. 

A  warrior  and  a  king ; 
Peter  the  small  upon  the  plains. 
Or  in  the  woods  a  war  maintains, 

The  rabbit  home  to  bring. 

Peter  the  great  much  blood  has  spilt^ 

Whence  helpless  orphans  spring ; 
He  realms  subdued,  and  cities  built 
While  little  Peter  free  from  guilt, 
Js  greater  than  a  king. 


IN  MEMORY  OF  W.  E**** 

Addressed  to  S.  £****. 

As  the  tall  cedar  in  its  youthful  prime, 
Upon  the  lofty  mountain  towers  sublime, 
Till  from  on  high  the  livid  flame  descends. 
Sudden  beneath  its  stroke  the  cedar  bends ; 
No  more  its  verdant  boughs  aspiring  rise, 
J.,ow  on  the  plain  its  withering  verdure  dip? 


13 

Thus  William  fell,  in  youth  aspiring  bloom. 
An  early  victim  to  the  silent  tomb. 
Around  his  youthful  heart,  in  fancy  bright, 
Flutter'd  the  airy  visions  of  delight ; 
But  what  avails  each  dear  delusive  scene, 
Fair  fleeting  structure  of  hope's  fairy  dream? 
Like  the  gay  bubbJe  glittering  on  the  tide, 
A  gale  arose,  the  shining  beauties  died ; 
Sudden  a  summons  from  the  court  on  high, 
Bid  in  his  view  each  earthly  phantom  die ; 
That  youthful  heart  like  others  prone  to  stray, 
Heard  the  sad  summons — heard  it  with  dismay. 
Yet  in  the  little  space,  by  mercy  given, 
Sought  and  I  trust  acceptance  found  with  heaven. 
While  the  dear  Saviour,  from  his  throne  above, 
Reach'd  down  the  lamp  of  hope;  'twas  lit  by  love ; 
The  light  that  cheer'd,  the  love  that  sooth'd  his 

breast, 
Smooth' d  his  rough  passage  to  the  land  of  rest, 
Oalm'd  the  dark  waves  of  Jordan's  stormy  floods 
And  wafted  safe  the  sufferer  home  to  God. 


A  SONNET 

'On  reading  the  Memoirs  of  tkc  late  celebrated 
Mary  Robinson. 

Sweet  Poetess,  misfortune's  child ! 

Adorned  with  every  power  to  charm ; 
Fair  wanderer  o'er  the  flow'ry  wild, 

."Early  expos'd  to  every  harm ! 


20 

Temptation  tried  her  syren  power 
To  lure  thy  steps  from  virtue's  way ; 

And  ah !  'twas  in  a  luckless  hour, 
She  led  thy  yielding  heart  astray. 

Let  pity  pause,  and  drop  a  tear, 

And  seek  temptation's  snares  to  shun ; 

Say,  ye  severest  of  severe ! 

What,  in  her  case,  ye  would  have  done. 

What  talents,  beauty,  elegance,  adorn, 

Admired,  caressed — deserted  and  forlorn. 

Thoughts  on  the  above  lines. 

Oh!  had  those  heavenly  charms,  that  did  conspire 
To  draw  the  heart  to  love  thee  and  admire. 
Been  chastened  by  religious  grace  divine, 
Thou  mightest  even  here  till  now,  with  lustre 

shine ! 
But,  ah !  seduced  from  the  pure  path  to  stray, 
What  thorns,  what  cares,  what  gloom  involv'd 

thy  way! 
Those  shining  talents,  given  thee  to  improve. 
Or  win  the  heart  to  more  exalted  love, 
Debased  and  spurn'd,  have  found  an  early  doom. 
And  sink  with  thee  neglected  in  the  tomb. 


MODESTY. 

How  sweet  is  the  roseate  morning. 

When  the  dewy  drops  tremble  on  high. 

A.nd  the  lark  leaves  her  nest,  and  is  soaring 
With  mellow  notes  up  to  the  sky ! 


-21 

flow  sweet  is  the  flower-scented  valley, 
And  how  sportive  the  lambs  on  the  plain  I 

How  melodious  the  notes  of  the  robin, 

And  how  plaintive  the  turtle  dove's  strain! 

Yet  more  sweet  than  the  morn's  rosy  blushes, 
Is  the  glow  upon  modesty's  cheek ; 

More  sweet  than  the  lark's  morning  sonnet, 
Are  the  accents  which  modesty  speak. 

Her  bosom's  the  flower  scented  valley, 
Where  innocence  sportively  reigns ; 

And  her  voice  is  as  clear  as  the  redbreast's, 
While  peace  soothes  the  heart  with  her  strains 


Little  warbler  or  the  spray1. 

With  thy  head  beneath  thy  wing. 
While  the  winds  around  thee  play, 

Sit,  and  thus  enjoy  thy  swing. 

Though  the  night  hawk  may  be  noai\ 

To  disturb  thy  airy  sleep, 
Thou  didst  me,  sweet  warbler,  cheer, 

I  will  now  thy  vigils  keep. 

Thus  may  he  whose  wakeful  eye 
Watches  o'er  the  sons  of  men, 

in  my  slumbers  still  be  nigh, 
I  shall  fear  no  danger  then . 


22 


"THE  NIGHT  IS  FAR  SPENT." 

Ah  when  will  the  gloom  that  envelopes  me  round 
Be  dispers'd  by  the  sun's  cheering  rays! 

Ah  when  shall  the  voice  of  sweet  music  resound 
To  betoken  the  dawning  of  day ! 

All  looks  dreary  and  sad,  not  a  star  in  the  sky 
Breaks  its  way  through  the  darkness  profound; 

To  retreat  from  this  desert  oft  vainly  I  try, 
For  the  briers  still  encompass  me  round. 

And  with  sorrowful  heart,  to  the  eastward  I  gaze 
With  a  hope  some  fair  token  to  see, 

That  will  cheer  me  e'er  long  through  the  trou- 
blesome maze,  ^u 
Or  assist  me  from  dangers  to  flee. 

But  alas !  though  I  know  that  the  night  is  far  spent, 
As  I  count  all  the  hours  that  roll  by, 

Though  the  darkness  increases,  sweet  hope  is 
still  lent 
To  assure  me  that  morning  is  nigh. 


To  a  Young  Man  just  recovering  from  severe 
Illness. 

Just  emerging  from  the  gloom, 

That  hovers  with  a  sickly  shade, 
Close  to  the  borders  of  the  tomb, 
With  cheeks  divested  of  their  bloom, 
In  sallow  hue  arrav'd  ; 


23 

Just  rescued  from  the  threat'ning  fo^, 
E'er  yet  thy  cheeks  begin  to  glow, 

All  weak  and  trembling  from  the  strife ; 
Prepare  the  best  that  thou  can'st  bring, 
An  off'ring  to  the  eternal  king, 

Who  thus  prolongs  thy  life ! 

How  grateful  is  the  cooling  wreath 

Of  health  around  the  burning  brow ! 
While  the  dark  hovering  mists  of  death. 
No  more  obstruct  thy  panting  breath, 

Or  sinking  spirits  bow. 
Again  thou  feel'st  the  cheerful  ray, 
Again  the  healthful  pulses  play, 

And  smiling  hope  impart : 
That  soon  the  hand  which  laid  thee  low, 
Shall  bid  the  rose  of  health  to  glow, 
Whilst  thou,  thy  gratitude  to  show, 

Should'st  give  him  all  thy  heart. 


TO  LETITIA  L- 


On  her  Marriage. 

Wrell !  since  at  Hymen's  altar  bound, 
May  love  and  friendship  both  increase, 

And  strew  with  lavish  hand  around, 
The  flowers  of  happiness  and  peace. 

May  bounteous  heaven  its  gifts  profuse, 
O'er  you  like  vernal  flowers  distil ; 

May  all  that  gives  delight,  amuse, 
And  jov  your  vacant  moments  fill. 


24 

May  discord,  life's  embittering  foe, 
Far  from  your  dwelling  fix  her  seat ; 

May  there  in  equal  currents  flow, 

The  streams  of  pleasure,  safe  and  sweet 

With  you  the  dear  domestic  train 
Of  all  the  social  virtue's  dwell, 

There  may  contentment  ever  reign, 
And  your's  the  gilded  dome  excel. 

Not  quick  each  other's  faults  to  spy, 
Oh  strive  contention's  voice  to  shun  I 

**  On  equal  wings  your  troubles  fly, 
In  equal  streams  your  pleasures  run.': 

Pray  now  accept  this  little  song, 
That  bears  my  every  Wish  sincere ; 

May  bounteous  heaven  your  days  prolong 
And  grant  you  all  Fve  wish'd  for  here. 


Prudentias  Choice  of  a  Jlushand 

If  e'er  at  Hymen's  shrine  I  bow. 
There  to  express  the  solemn  vow, 
May  a  true  sense  of  honour  bind. 
And  to  the  occasion  suit  my  mine; 
Such  be  the  man,  or^oung  or  old, 
By  whom  I'd  wish  to  be  control'd 
Of  true  substantial  worth  possess- 
First  let  religion  warm  his  breast  • 
Not  with  enthusiastic  heat. 
Qr  hated  bigotry  replete ; 


23 

Of  genuine  charity  the  friend  ; 

Prompt  to  forgive,  loth  to  offend , 

A  foe  to  levity  and  jesting, 

Of  manners  sweetly  interesting ; 

Rather  inclined  to  serious  mood, 

Of  heart  susceptible  and  good; 

Virtue  should  form  the  leading  trait 

Of  all  the  charms  that  make  him  great; 

True  dignity  with  softness  joined, 

Of  noble  sentiments,  refined — 

Such  be  the  graces  that  adorn  his  mind. 

The  mental  charms  are  what  I  chiefly  prizt^. 

Since  'tis  from  those  our  happiness  arise. 


THE  GHOST. 

There  once  an  ancient  cottage  stood 

Partly  encircled  in  a  wood ; 

By  its  inhabitants  forsook 

It  wore  a  solitary  look, 

And  tattling  rumour  spread  report 

That  ghosts  did  to  the  cot  resort, 

Which  furnish'd  many  a  frightful  tale 

Till  fear  did  all  around  prevail ; 

A  dismal  clattering  noise  was  heard, 

And  frightful  spectres  oft  appear'd ; 

Pale  superstition  shrunk  with  dread, 

And  tir'd  his  heels  to  save  his  head; 

Twas  long  this  story  went  about, 

Till  thus,  at  length,  the  truth  came  out. 

It  happened  on  a  certain  day, 

Two  brisk  young  huntsmen  passed  that  way 


26 

Ami  being  fraught  with  resolution 
They  came  at  last  to  this  conclusion, — 
*  We'll  venture  in,  at  least,  and  see, 
For  what  this  mighty  stir  can  be." 
But  oh !  how  great  was  their  surprize 
When  first  the  goblin  met  their  eyes! 
They  laughed ;  indeed  who  could  forbear  ? 
To  see  how  strange  a  ghost  was  there. 
An  old  white  horse,  who  rang'd  the  wood.. 
And  through  the  forest  sought  his  food  j 
Labour  unable  to  sustain, 
Deserted  wanderer  on  the  plain, 
Oft,  when  the  sunbeam's  piercing  ray 
Did  o'er  his  ancient  temples  play, 
And  flies  tormenting,  suck'd  his  blood, 
He  hastens  to  the  neighbouring  wood ; 
Then  to  his  fav'rite  cottage  hies, 
Stamps  on  the  floor  to  drive  the  flies. 
Poor  harmless  ghost !  he  little  knew 
The  stories  that  about  him  flew; 
If  courage  had  not  tried  its  skill, 
He  might  have  been  the  goblin  still ; 
To  reign  sole  master  of  the  cot 
It  still  had  been  his  happy  lot : 
Instead  of  terror,  mirth  takes  place. 
And  brightens  up  in  every  face; 
The  joyful  tidings  spread  around, 
Joyful  indeed!  the  ghost  is  found! 
A  lucky  turn  it  was,  I'm  sure, 
Nor  fail'd  of  making  many  a  cure 


27 


On  tlie  Death  of  S.  D s. 

With  torturing  pain  no  more  oppress'it, 
The  spirit  finds  a  sweet  relief; 

The  weary  body  sinks  to  rest, 
And  bids  adieu  to  all  its  grief. 

This  world  of  sorrow  disappears, 
While  a  soft  slumber  clos'd  his  eye»j 

Wak'd  by  angelic  notes,  he  hears 
The  melting  music  of  the  skies. 

Transporting  transit!  oh  how  sweet! 

From  painful  toil  to  endless  rest! 
A  glorious  saviour  smiles  to  meet, 

To  join  the  regions  of  the  blest. 

Those  eyes,  that,  many  a  sleepless  night. 
In  painful  watching  pass'd  the  hours, 

Now  seal'd  in  everlasting  night, 
No  more  exert  their  feeble  powers. 

No  sorrow,  in  those  regions  fair, 
Shall  e'er  disturb  thy  calm  repose ; 

May  thy  lov'd  partner  meet  thee  there, 
When  life  and  all  its  sorrows  close. 

Her  loss  of  thee  no  doubt  is  great, 

Yet  cease  dear no  more  complain ; 

Though  sad  and  lonely  be  thy  state, 
Thy  loss  is  his  eternal  gain  I 


23 


AGAINST  STRIFE. 

Was  it  for  this  the  son  of  peace 

Descended  from  above  ? 
Ah !  was  it  not  that  strife  should  cease 

And  give  a  place  to  love  ? 

Oh  Lord !  dear  Lord,  again  descend, 

And  bid  the  waves  subside ! 
Thy  all  subduing  influence  lend, 

And  thy  poor  children  guide. 

So  wide,  so  high  the  billows  roll, 
They  know  not  how  to  steer, 

Thy  voice  can  yet  these  waves  control* 
Thou  art  a  helper  near ! 

Oh !  come  and  calm  this  troublous  strife. 

And  from  contention  free ; 
For  discord  mars  the  streams  of  life 

And  will  divide  from  thee ! 

Grant  the  pure  spirit  of  thy  love, 
That  all  the  world  may  see. 

Who  as  disciples  thou'lt  approve, 
And  who  would  live  to  thee. 


29 


LINES 

On  the  Death  of  H.  J.  #*******. 

Awake  my  muse !  the  mournful  task  pursue. 
And  pay  to  worth  the  last  sad  tribute  due ; 
Thy  merits  claim,  dear  friend,  a  nobler  lay 
Than  my  dull  muse  has  language  to  display. 
Ah  !  in  what  form  of  words  can  I  impart 
The  unfeign'd  sorrows  of  a  wounded  heart  ? 
How  speak  my  grief,  or  sympathizing  share 
With  those  who  have  a  heavier  weight  to  bear  ? 
Ah !  my  dear  friend,  so  unexpected  fled ! 
Cut  off  from  life,  and  number'd  with  the  dead ! 
Just  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  each  prospect  bright 
How  soon  obscur'd  beneath  the  gloom  of  night  \ 
Quick  the  transition  from  health's  gayest  bloom, 
To  the  cold  mansions  of  the  silent  tomb  ! 
Fresh  to  my  view  the  mournful  scene  appears; 
I  mark  thy  partner's  grief,  thy  brother's  tears ; 
And  busy  memory,  still  before  my  view 
Presents  the  scene  too  painful  to  pursue. 
Oh  cruel  Death !  how  soon  thy  dart  destroys 
Our  dearest  bliss,  and  all  our  promis'd  joys  ! 
But  ah  !  my  youthful  friend,  thy  sudden  call, 
Should  prove  a  solemn  warning  to  us  all. 
Sharp  was  thy  conflict,  but  'twas  quickly  o'er ; 
Thy  soul,  I  trust,  has  gain'd  a  happier  shore. 
Thy  lovely  babes,  just  launch'd  on  life's  rough 

sea, 
Claim'd  one  fond  smile,  one  parting  kiss  from 

thee! 

3* 


30 

Celestial  beauty  on  their  features  glow, 
Unconscious  of  their  loss,  no  grief  they  know; 
The  same  rough  gale  that  launch' d  you  on  lifeV 

sea, 
Launch'd  your  poor  mother  in  eternity  ! 
Heav'n  still  protect  you  o'er  the  boisterous  flood. 
3\veet  little  girls,  and  waft  you  safe  to  God. 


"  Man  cometh  up  like  a  flower,"  &c. 

A  flow'ret  well  eultur'd  with  art, 

And  the  sweetest  that  Nature  had  made; 

It  could  charm  both  the  eye  and  the  heart, 
For  it  was  in  such  beauty  arrayed. 

Its  sweets  on  the  breezes  were  borne, 

Afar  in  the  regions  of  air : 
And  'twas  wont  on  the  breast  to  be  worn, 

And  to  glow  like  a  diamond  there. 

But  the  spoiler  of  flow" rets  pass'd  by, 
And  he  pluck'd  it,  alas !  from  its  -stem  ; 

J  gave  the  poor  flow'ret  a  sigh, 
And  did  the  rash  spoiler  condemn. 

I  thought  it  quite  lost;  when  behold! 

I  look'd,  and  with  beauty  anew, 
I  beheld  its  young  verdure  unfold, 

And  expanding  afresh  to  the  dew. 

Thus  man  shall  in  beauty  revive, 

Beyond  the  cold  realms  of  the  tomb  ; 

In  regions  immortal  shall  live, 
Jn  beauty  immortal  shall  bloom, 


SI 


SECRET  PRIDE. 

i(  wish,  but  wishing  will  not  do, 
I  strive,  but  can  no  good  perform : 

While  secret  pride  would  prompt  my  view* 
To  flatter  self,  poor  worthless  worm. 

Pride  I  detest,  and  yet  unsought, 

I  find  the  secret  foe  entwine 
Around  my  heart,  with  venom  fraught, 

To  spoil  it,  when  it  would  be  thine. 

Lord !  I  would  love,  with  soul  sincere, 
Forget  the  world  and  all  I  see ; 

Still  sly  intruders  crowd  me  near, 

And  steal  my  yielding  heart  from  thee. 


STREPHON  AND  LOUISA. 

Where  the  moon-beams  now  tremblingly  gleans 
o'er  the  spot, 

And  the  rank  grass  waves  over  the  mound, 
There  rests  poor  Louisa,  alas !  now  forgot, 
Except  by  a  few,  who  still  pity  her  lot, 

And  who  sigh  as  the  winds  sullen  sound. 

Once  Louisa  was  gay  as  the  robin  that  sings 

Her  song  at  the  dawning  of  day ; 
Her  breath  was  as  sweet  as  the  odour  that  springs 
When  Flora  around  her  luxuriantly  flings 

All  the  sweet  op'ning  blossoms  of  Mar. 


; 


32 

Her  cheeks,  not  the  rose,  just  expanded  to  view, 

In  all  its  gay  tints,  could  excel ; 
Her  mild  timid  eye  was  of  languishing  blue ; 
And  close  in  the  wind  her  dark  tresses  did  flow, 

Or  in  curls  o'er  her  white  shoulders  fell. 

As  oft  o'er  the  meadow  she  artlessly  stray'd, 

Young  Strephon  beheld  with  delight ; 
While  he  eagerly  gazed  on  the  beautiful  maid, 
Whose  innocent  cheeks  were  in  blushes  array'd, 
And  retiring  she  fled  from  his  sight. 

But  love,  or  its  likeness,  his  bosom  possessed ; 

Her  absence  he  could  not  endure ; 
He  sought  her  one  eve,  and  so  fondly  addressed, 
And  with  eloquent  sighs  his  affection  expressed, 

As  her  innocent  heart  did  procure. 

Now  sweetly  the  moments  pass'd  gaily  away, 

Delighted  they  roved  o'er  the  green ; 
Or  stroll'd  as  Aurora  first  opened  thcjgy, 
And  brush'd  off  the  dew  drops  that  ftVnV  in  their 
way, 
But  alas !  how  soon  chang'd  was  the  scene. 

Come  ye,  who  have  felt  what  it  is  to  adore, 

Whose  bosoms  have  thrilled  with  sweet  pain  1 
Ye  only  can  tell  that,  when  hope  is  all  o'er, 
The  throbs  of  a  heart  that  can  never  love  more, 
And  each  prospect  of  pleasure  how  vain. 

As  the  lily,  that  violently  droops  on  its  stem, 
When  nipt  by  the  frosts  of  the  night, 


33 

"Ho  ciroop'd  poor  Louisa,  and  who  can  condemn; 
She  had  prov'd  him  as  dross,  she  accounted  a  gem, 
The  brightest  of  all  in  her  sight. 

But  her  cruel  false'lover  still  pensive  survives, 

While  his  cheeks  wear  the  hue  of  despair; 

And  though  to  be  mirthful  oft  vainly  he  strives, 

For  still  the  poor  maid  in  his  memory  revives, 

And  Jus  brow  is  o'er-clouded  with  care. 

And  oft  as  he  wanders  in  sorrowful  plight, 

Near  the  spot  where  Louisa  is  laid ; 
If  the  leaves  rustle  soft  by  the  breezes  of  night, 
Or  the  beams  of  the  moon  on  her  hillock  shine 
bright, 
Then  fancy  presents  the  poor  maid. 

When  all  mortals  are  gay,  then  poor  Strephos 
alone 
Laments  for  the  days  that  are  fled ; 
While  conscience  still  poinfs  to  the  wrongs  he 

has  done, 
And  he  oft  drops  a  tear  as  he  wanders  alone, 
O'er  the  green  flow'ry  turf  of  the  dead. 


To  Lctitia  L n. 

May  your  eottage,  though  small,  be  with  happi- 
ness crowned, 

And  no  troubles  your  pleasures  prevent ; 
And  may  peace  in  your  bosoms  forever  abound, 
And  strew  the  sweet  flowers  of  delight  all  arounds 

And  may  yours  be  the  cot  of  content 


34 

:Tis  but  little  we  want,  and  kind  Nature  bestows,. 

Abundant,  her  blessings  around ; 
At  return  of  the  spring,  may  the  new  op'ning 

rose, 
Her  charms  at  the  front  of  your  cottage  disclose, 

And  the  sweet  scented  brier  be  found. 

O'er  the  mead,  when  Aurora  first  gilds  the  clear 
sky, 

How  delighted  methinks  I  could  rove ; 
And  view  the  gay  sky-lark  ascending  on  high* 
Or  hear,  in  the  wood-land  adjoining,  the  sigh 

Or  soft  mournful  coo  of  the  dove. 

But  now  winter,  alas !  has  discolour'd  the  trees, 
And  all  nature  seems  destin'd  to  mourn ; 

No  roses  perfume  with  sweet  fragrance  the  breeze. 

The  prospects  no  longer  seem  fitted  to  please, 
Till  the  gay  smiling  spring-time  return. 

But  the  mind  is  still  free  and  can  journey  away, 

To  regions  that  winter  ne'er  knows ; 
She  can  dwell  on  the  serious,  or  light  on  the  gay, 
Though  she  now  and  then  finds  the  sharp  thorn 
in  the  way 
When  she  ventures  to  pluck  at  a  rose. 

Yet  among  all  the  flow'rets,  the  rose  is  my  toast, 
Though  I  first  meant  a  song  to  your  cot ; 

May  you  have  both  daisies   and  cowslips  to 
boast, 

And  of  pionies  and  tulips  a  numberless  host, 
And  a  dear  little  Forget-Me-Not. 


35 

THE  WISH. 

Written  by  the  Authoress  when  young. 

How  blest  the  maid,  supremely  blest, 
Who  knows  a  leisure  hour  to  find ; 
Whose  busy  hands  can  sometimes  rest, 
To  cheer  the  mind. 

A  rural  cot,  a  peaceful  home, 
With  ease  and  independence  bless'd, 
And  social  friends  who  sometimes  come 
To  give  life  zest. 

Friendship  and  love  might  enter  in, 
Right  welcome  inmates  to  my  cot ; 
To  love  a  little  is  no  sin 

Nor  soon  forgot, 

A  feeling  heart  and  store  of  pelf, 
To  help  the  needy  when  they  call, 
Plenty  of  books  upon  a  shelf, 

And  pen  to  scrawl. 

To  wander  when  the  moony  light, 
Gleams  soft  o'er  mountain,  plain,  and  tree  j 
A  heart  to  glow  with  soft  delight, 
Or  merry  glee. 

Serene  repose,  and  peaceful  dreams, 
Alternate  labour,  ease,  and  leisure ; 
A  medium,  void  of  all  extremes, 

Gives  greatest  pleasure, 


M 

Stranger  to  flatt'ry,  I  would  give 
And  wish  from  all  to  claim  respect  , 
For  whereas  the  feeling  heart  can  live 
By  cold  neglect  I 

A  conscience  clear,  without  a  sting. 
Sweet  presage  of  immortal  joy! 
The  charms  that  from  religion  spring, 
And  never  cloy. 

These,  bounteous  heaven !  of  thee  alone* 
I  ask ;  not  grandeur,  wealth,  or  fame ; 
Let  virtuous  actions,  not  a  stone, 

Record  mv  name. 


Verses  written  on  recovering  from  illnessin  1816 

Thou  who  can'st  raise  the  drooping  heart. 

Who  can  the  wounds  of  sorrow  bind, 
Who  can  the  smiles  of  health  impart, 

And  brace  the  long  enfeebled  mind. 

The  gratitude  to  thee  I  owe, 

1  find  not  language  to  declare ; 
My  bosom's  secret  thoughts,  to  know 

Is  thine,  and  thou  can'st  read  it  there : 

When  sleep  forsook  these  weary  eyes. 

And  sickness  shook  this  trembling  frame, 
When  gloomy  clouds  involv'd  the  skies. 

My  mind  congenial,  felt  the  same- 


37 

Then  this  gay  world  and  all  its  joys, 
No  ray  of  comfort  could  impart ; 

Yet  even  then  did  friendship's  voice 
Allay  the  sorrows  of  my  heart. 

Yet  first  to  thee,  Almighty  power ! 

The  song  of  gratitude  is  due, 
Thou  did'st  the  balm  of  sleep  restore, 

And  midst  the  billows  brought  me  through. 

I  thank  thee  for  thy  mercies  past, 
And  beg  thy  ail -sustaining  power, 

To  help  me  o'er  life's  thorny  waste. 
Nor  e'er  forsake  in  trial's  hour. 

And  in  return,  oh  may  my  heart, 
Be  more  devoted,  Lord !  to  thee ! 

Bid  every  rival  hence  depart, 

And  come  thyself  and  dwell  with  me. 


Feelings  of  Gratitude  for  the  return  of  Peace. 

Oh  thou  whose  voice  can  bid  the  billows  cease, 
Whose  mercies  countless  as  the  sands  they  lave. 

We  humbly  thank  thee  for  returning  peace, 
And  joy  once  more  to  see  the  olive  wave. 

But  ah,  in  vain  her  branch  shall  flourish  here, 
In  vain  our  land  shall  be  with  plenty  blest, 

Without  thy  presence,  ev'ry  sight  is  drear, 
With  thee,  a  wilderness  in  smiles  is  drest. 

Then  to  my  heart  the  balm  of  peace  restore, 
And  from  my  breast  each  lurking  foe  expel : 

Bid  guardian  innocence  to  keep  the  door, 
\nd  condescend  thyself  therein  to  dwell. 
4 


38 


I 
Lines  Written  4th  Month  1828. 

Righteous  One,  look  down,  in  pity  to  our  woes, 
And  lay  the  storm  that  rages  ;  oh  lay  it  to  repose ; 
Oh  bid  the  mountain  billows  into  a  calm  subside, 
Or  o'er  the  stormy  ocean,  oh  be  thy  childrens 

guide ; 
They  wish  to  find  the  haven  of  everlasting  rest, 
Oh  by  thy  mercy  save  them,  it  is  their  list  request. 
For   weary   of  such  tossing,  upon  the  restless 

waves, 
Where  dangers  ever  threaten,  where  furious  tem- 
pests raves, 
We  know  not  where  to  anchor  upon  this  raging 

sea ; 
But  wherefore  are  we  troubled,  if  but  upheld  by 

thee  ? 
Yet  a  deep  gloom  involves  us,  we  cannot  see  the 

way, 
Oh  dissipate  the  darkness,  and  send  the  cheering 

day : 
Oh  calm  the  angry  tempest  that  swells  the  foamy 

sea, 
And  melt  the  icy  mountains  by  one  warm  ray 

from  thee ; 
Then  shall  we  sec  before  us  the  sweet  enamelM 

shore, 
Where  beams  the  son  of  glory,  where  tempests 

never  roar, 
Where  streams  of  love,  unfettered,  through  all 

its  valleys  flow, 
That  to  the  boundless  ocean  of  love  their  trea- 
sures owe : 


39 

Oh  for  that  blissful  haven,  where  peace  and  love 

are  found,  ft 

I  sigh  to  see  its  beauties,  to  hear  the  turtles  sound ; 
My  heart  is  sick  with  sorrow,  my  ear  no  respite 

knows, 
Oh  thou  whose  voice  commanded,  again  com- 

maud  repose : 
Say  "peace,  be  still,"  ye   billows,  and   peace 

again  shall  be, 
Then  bid  a  ray  of  love  descend,  oh  righteous 

one  from  thee. 


Addressed  to  S.  D- 


May  thy  young  heart  unknown  to  care, 
Be  raised  to  heaven,  in  humble  prayer, 
That  grace  divine  may  enter  there, 
Dear  Sarah. 

And  may  that  heavenly  grace  expel, 
The  rebel  foes  that  love  to  dwell, 
Within  thy  bosom's  secret  cell, 

My  Sarah. 

May  gratitude  thy  heart  expand, 
To  iiim,  whose  kind  protecting  hand, 
Can  guide  thee  to  the  heavenly  land, 
Dear  Sarah. 

Then  let  thy  youthful  years  be  spent. 
In  prizing  well,  each  moment  lent, 
And  the  kind  friend  whom  he  has  sen*\ 
Dear  Sarah 


40 

Still  prove  thy  gratitude  of  heart, 
To  her,  who  took  a  mother's  part, 
And  be  more  serious  than  thou  art. 
My  Sarah. 

I  love  thee  dear,  and  wish  thee  well. 
And  hope  thou  wilt  in  worth  excel, 
Then  go  in  brighter  worlds  to  dwell, 
Dear  Sarah. 


Addressed  to  Maria  S******  on  tlie  Death  of 
her  little  Emma. 

Little  flow 'ret  fair  to  view, 
Why  so  transient  was  thy  stay, 
Why  so  rude,  the  gale  that  blew 
•  Thee  from  thy  parent  stem  away, 
And  laid  thy  op'ning  beauties  low  ? 
Was  it  to  teach  thy  tribe  so  fair, 
And  the  frail  stem  that  did  thee  bear, 
How  vain  are  every  hope  below, 
How  unavailing  every  charm? 
Perhaps,  the  gard'ner  good  and  wise, 
Foresaw  some  foe  in  fair  disguise 
Might  steal  away  the  beauteous  prize. 
And  sav'd  his  flower  from  harm; 
He  therefore  bid  a  blast  descend, 
And  o'er  thy  feeble  strength  prevail, 
Till  from  thy  stalk  thou'st  riven — 
And  in  a  soil,  from  changes  free, 
In  love,  he  has  transplanted  thee, 
To  bloom,  more  sweet,  in  heaven. 


41 


REMEMBRANCE. 

Ye  dear  departed  ones,  can  memory  ever 
Your  fond  endearments  from  my  bosom  sever: 
Ah  no!  as  close  ye  twine  around  my  heart, 
As  when  I  saw  ye  from  my  view  depart ; 
Since  then  how  many  a  painful  hour  has  sped. 
How  many  a  tear  has  fond  remembrance  shed, 
How  many  a  change  have  I  been  forced  to  prove, 
But  time  and  sorrow  ne'er  can  change  my  love : 
No,  dearest  earthly  friends,  though  lost  to  sight, 
To  think,  to  speak  of  you,  affords  delight; 
I  feel  a  secret  union,  sweet,  and  strong, 
That  draws  you  close,  and  would  your  stay  pro- 
long; 
To  wish  you  back  again  is  far  from  me, 
I  still  enjoy  you,  though  I  cannot  see ; 
Yet  I  rejoice,  in  every  change  to  know, 
My  dearest  friends  are  past  the  reach  of  woe. 
To  see  you  suffer  was  my  lot  severe, 
My  want  of  resignation  cost  you  dear, 
Till  this  poor  sinful  heart,  oppressed  with  woe, 
Without  a  murmer,  joy'd  to  see  you  go. 
Farewell,  farewell,  but  not  even  now  to  part. 
Years  of  affliction  cannot  change  my  heart ; 
To  you,  thro'  ail,  it  still  remains  unchanged, 
And  must,  till  life's  eventful  course  is  ranged. 
Then  oh,  eternal  goodness!  source  of  love, 
Grant  that  our  souls  may  re-unite  above. 
4* 


42 
FRAGMENT 

ADDRESSED   TO   


Friends  of  my  wint'ry  hour,  I  feel  your  worth-? 
Ye  are  not  such  as  only  can  endure 
The  sunny  ray,  but  in  the  wint'ry  gloom, 
When  icy  fetters  fasten  every  stream, 
That  during  summer  prattles  down  the  mead- 
No  !  there's  a  genial  warmth  in  the  rich  soil 
O'er  which  ye  roll ;  for  ye  are  not  the  rills 
That  by  their  noise  direct  us  to  the  source, 
But  like  expanded  rivers  smooth  and  wide, 
Who  bear  rich  treasure  on  your  placid  breast, 
And  fertilize  the  little  vales  around. 


Written  on  the  anniversary  of  my  Mother's  death. 

Time  has  roll'd  two  years  away, 

.Two  checker'd  years  to  me, 
Since  on  this  sad  and  gloomy  day, 
'  I  bade  adieu  to  thee. 

My  Mother !  last  surviving  friend, 

Of  my  best  friends  below, 
I  feel,  even  now,  our  spirits  blend — 

Sweet  union  still  I  know. 

And  the  dear  partner  of  thy  cares, 

My  Father!  ever  dear, 
With  thee,  my  fond  affection  share?. 

As  tho'  you  still  were  here. 


43 

And  tho'  your  forms  no  more  my  eye  can  trace, 
I  feel  our  spirits  blend  in  fond  embrace. 


LINES 

ADDRESSED  TO 


I  long  for  a  mansion  of  rest, 

My  spirit  is  weary  and  sad ; 
My  body  with  ills  is  oppress'd, 

And  my  heart  it  no  longer  seems  glad. 

These  limbs  that  so  active  before, 
This  heart  that  in  unison  beat, 

Alas !  these  are  sprightly  no  more, 
And  this  is  sunk  low  in  its  seat 

Or,  if  tir'd  by  affliction  to  move, 
It  flutters,  like  warbler  confined, 

In  vain  is  both  friendship  and  love, 
It  seems  but  to  sorrow  inclined. 

Alas !  why  thus  sadly  oppress'd, 
Ah !  why  thus  so  languid  and  low ; 

Oh!  but  show  me  a  mansion  of  rest, 
And  let  me,  oh !  there  let  me  go. 

I  look  all  around  with  a  sigh, 
For  a  world  full  plenty  I  see ; 

While  to  gain  a  small  portion  I  try, 
Yet  the  world  would  deny  it  to  me. 


44 

Tho'  I  honestly  strive  for  my  part, 
Yet  my  feeble  exertion  they  scorn, 

And  would  break  by  unkindness  a  heart. 
That  alas!  is  both  sad  and  forlorn. 

But  though  dreary  and  destitute  now, 
It  once  was  as  gay  as  their  own, 

But  afflictions  have  learnt  it  to  bow, 
And  its  hopes  are  all  blasted  and  gone. 

For  pity  it  scorns  to  implore — 
It  asks  but  the  portion  designed 

By  Him.  from  whose  bountiful  store, 
His  children  a  living  should  find. 


LINES 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  FRIEND. 

Adieu,  my  friend,  thy  sudden  call, 
Should  prove  a  warning  stroke 

To  those  thou'st  left — to  me — to  all 
Was  the  sad  lesson  spoke. 

Oh!  may  we  think  upon  thy  fate, 
Cut  down  in  noon -day  bright, 

Nor  thoughtless  let  the  hours  belate 
Us  in  the  shades  of  night. 

Adieu,  my  friend,  I  hope  in  heaven, 
With  thee  e'er  long  to  meet ; 

Mercy,  I  trust,  to  thee  was  given, 
Otr  safest,  last  retreat. 


45 

Oil !  may  thy  children  seek  his  love, 
Who  has  the  power  to  save ; 

And  may  you  all  unite  above, 
In  worlds  beyond  the  grave. 


GRIEF. 


Oh  Time!  Time!  Time!  and  will  thy  flight 

Ne'er  bear  my  sorrows  out  of  sight? 

Days,  weeks,  and  months,  have  glided  on, 

But  oh !  remembrance  is  not  gone. 

Time,  that  all  other  sorrows  cross, 

Seems  only  to  augment  my  loss. 

Eternal  power !  who  bids  to  flow 

The  streams  that  lighten  human  woe, 

Oh,  bid  it  on  its  bosom  bear, 

From  my  sad  heart  this  load  of  care! 

I  mark  its  rapid  current  go, 

Bearing  off  many  a  weight  of  woe ; 

See  hearts  that  like  my  own  were  press' d, 

Resume  their  cheerfulness  or  rest, 

But  yet  without  a  murmuring  heart, 

I  find  my  own  will  ne'er  depart. 

Oh  tHou!  who  bids  the  seasons  roll, 

Come  whisper  comfort  to  my  soul! 

Blunt  the  keen  thorn  that  wounds  my  breast. 

And  grant  my  weary  bosom  rest ; 

Bid  my  sad  memory's  pangs  decrease, 

Subside,  or  terminate  in  peace ; 

Bid  the  dark  tempest  cease  to  lower, 

And  kindly  melt  into  a  shower. 


46 


Arise  my  soul,  shake  off  thy  gloom. 

Arise,  my  soul !  shake  off  thy  gloom. 

And  trust  a  Father's  care ; 
He  who  can  bid  the  desert  bloom, 

Can  for  thy  wants  prepare. 

Has  he  ne'er  ope'd  a  way  for  thee, 
When  thou  wert  hedged  around  ? 

Arise,  my  soul !  thy  fears  shall  flee, 
A  path  will  yet  be  found. 

;Tis  he  can  prosper  all  thou  dost. 
Or  each  fair  scheme  confound ; 

Midst  threatening  ills  his  guardian  host, 
May  still  encamp  thee  round. 

Arise,  my  soul !  shake  off  the  dust 
That  oft  obstructs  thy  sight ; 

Nor  e'er  that  guardian  arm  distrust. 
That's  stretch'd  to  lead  thee  right. 

Hast  thou  not  felt  a  secret  power 
Thy  drooping  frame  sustain  ? 

And  been  supported  in  an  hour 
When  human  aid  was  vain  ? 

Oh  yes!  thou  can'st  this  truth  confess. 

And  bless  that  hand  unseen, 
Who  in  the  depths  of  keen  distress. 

Has  thy  supporter  been. 


47 

When  recent  grief  o  erwhelm'd  the  soul. 

Tremendous  to  behold, 
Thou  did'st  the  furious  storm  control, 

By  naught  beside  control'd. 

From  this  poor  bleeding  breast  of  pain. 
Thou  did'st  extract  the  thorn, 

Those  throbbing  wounds  did  ease  regain, 
This  heart  did  cease  to  mourn. 

Yes,  thou  did'st  bid  the  waves  subside, 

The  tempest  ceased  to  roar, 
To  heal  my  wounds  thy  hand  applied, 

And  in  the  oil  did  pour. 

Then  rise,  my  soul !  thy  voice  extend 

Up  to  thy  Father's  throne ; 
Like  incense  may  thy  praise  ascend, 

And  bring  his  blessings  down. 

Without  his  blessing,  every  hope 

Must  dwindle  in  despair; 
For  blessings  raise  thy  offering  up, 

And  thou  shalt  have  thy  share. 

Father  of  love!  oh  still  extend 

The  rays  of  heavenly  light ! 
My  God!  my  Father!   and  my  friend' 

Oh  guide  my  steps  aright! 


-13 


On  the  Death  of  Elizabeth  TV s. 

Thy  pilgrimage  is  ended, 

Thou'st  gain'd  time's  farthest  shore  : 
A  little  gale  descended 

To  waft  thee  quickly  o'er. 

The  early  flowers  have  faded. 

And  vanish*  d  long  ago  ; 
x\nd  Autumn's  charms  were  shaded 

Beneath  the  wint'ry  snow. 

The  eye  that  beam'd  with  brightness. 

Had  lost  its  sparkling  ray  ; 
It  saw  no  more  the  lightness 

That  ushers  in  the  day. 

But  in  a  spring  unchanging, 
Where  flowers  immortal  bloom. 

I  trust  thou  now  art  ranging, 
Where  sorrows  find  no  room. 

"Where  those,  who  long  had  left  thee 

To  gain  that  blissful  shore, 
Tho'  death  of  them  bereft  thee, 

Thou  meet' st  to  part  no  more. 

Each  numerous,  dear  relation, 

And  some  so  dear  to  me, 
Within  the  walls  of  salvation, 

f  trust  shall  welcome  thee. 


49 

Where  tears  shall  flow  no  longer- 
Nor  cares  distract  the  breast. 

Where  love  is  purer — stronger, 
And  no  false  friends  molest. 

While  some  with  joy  recounting 
The  storms  that  swell'd  their  sail. 

While  thou  to  bliss  art  mounting. 
Just  wafted  by  a  gale. 

While  some  o'erwhelm'd  with  trouble. 
In  the  cold  waves  have  stood. 

One  breeze  dissolv'd  thy  bubble. 
And  wafted  thee  to  God. 


To  a  Friend  and  Physician. 

Son  of  benevolence!  whose  healing  art, 
By  heavenly  blessing,  rais'd  this  drooping  frame  , 
Whose  gentle  manners  cheer'd  this  sinking  hear! , 
And  in  my  bosom  lit  hope's  lambient  flame ; 
This  grateful  heart  expands  with  kindest  glow, 
And  every  blessing  would  for  thee  implore, 
Who  still  delights  to  raise  the  sons  of  woe, 
And  bids  the  burning  temples  throb  no  more. 
Heaven  bless  thy  labors,  make  thee  like  thy  Lord, 
To  whom  the  sick,  the  lame,  the  blind,  repair ', 
Oh  may  each  joy  within  thy  breast  be  stored, 
And  cheer  thy  heart  thro'  all  its  round  of  carr 
Heaven  grant  thee  too,  a  recompense  above, 
For  acts,  which  here,  are  only  paid  with  love, 
5 


60 


FRIENDSHIP 

A  SONNET. 

Friendship  is  a  summer  flower. 

Thriving  best  in  sunny  ray, 
Yet  sometimes  'mid  the  snowy  shower. 

It  blooms  in  winters  day. 

And  oh,  how  sweet  is  its  perfume, 
When  every  other  flower  is  dead ! 

It  looks  like  hope  upon  the  tomb 

Where  pale  despair  reclines  his  head. 

And  while  its  hues  delight  the  eye, 
Its  balmy  fragrance  spreads  around. 

Wafted  by  gentle  pity's  sigh, 
To  heal  misfortune's  wound. 

Expanded,  still  is  seen  its  gentle  breast. 
Where  weeping  sorrow  lays  her  head  to  res 


BLIND  JAKE,  THE  MILLER 

Where  little  Mingo  winds  its  way, 
Through  many  a  copse  and  meadow  ga*, 
And  bears  his  scanty  tribute  small. 
To  give  to  nobler  Schuylkill  all ; 


51 

Where  broader  grows  his  feeble  rill, 
There  stands,  beside  the  bridge,  a  mill ; 
Where  oft  the  neighbouring  swains  repairr 
And  find  poor  Jake  the  miller  there. 
He'd  rise  before  the  morning  light, 
For  with  poor  Jake  'twas  always  night : 
He  ne'er  beheld  the  cheerful  ray, 
That  ushers  in  the  dawning  day. 
For  him  in  vain  the  green  hills  rise, 
No  flow'ry  vale  salutes  his  eyes, 
No  cheerful  ray  of  sun-light  fair, 
Black  clouds  of  darkness  hover  there. 
And  yet  poor  Jake  was  cheerful  still, 
Would  chant  his  song  and  tend  his  mill ; 
And  seem'd  as  blithesome,  brisk,  and  gay, 
As  those  who  have  the  light  of  day. 
For  tho1  without  'twas  always  night, 
The  heart  within  seem'd  lair  and  light; 
And  where  a  cheerful  heart  we  find, 
To  light  the  breast  of  him  that's  blind, 
We  cannot  well  the  truth  mistake, 
That  now  'tis  well  with  poor  blind  Jake ; 
For  death  has  closed  poor  Jacob's  ears, 
No  more  his  clattering  mill  he  hears. 
Let  hungry  swains  their  loss  deplore, 
For  thou  shalt  take  the  grist  no  more ; 
Nor  cross  the  bridge,  nor  wind  the  hill, 
Nor  chant  thy  song,  nor  tend  thy  milL 
Thy  tedious  night  without  a  ray, 
Opened  I  trust  in  endless  day ; 
Let  all  thy  cheerful  patience  prize, 
And  be  as  gay  with  both  their  eyes ; 
So  bright  a  pattern  let  me  take, 
And  sometimes  think  of  poor  old  Jake, 


52 


CONTENTMENT. 

There  is  a  gem  whose  worth  exceeds 
A  Caesar's  on  his  throne ; 

Riches  within  a  cot  it  spreads, 
And  makes  the  world  its  own. 

The  gay  attire,  the  spacious  dome, 
Too  rarely  boast  the  prize, 

That  oft  is  seen  in  cottage  home, 
Like  monarch  in  disguise. 

Without  it,  heaven  has  vainly  lent 
To  man  a  plenteous  store ; 

Unless  he  find  the  gem  Content, 
Though  rich,  he  still  is  poor. 


HOPE  AND  DESPAIR. 

There  is  a  charm  for  human  woe, 
Though  oft  its  heavenly  light, 

In  vain  the  wanderer  seeks  to  know. 
Amid  the  gloom  of  night. 

Yet  rarely  does  it  fail  to  shed, 
E'en  then  a  glimmering  ray, 

Without  it  every  joy  is  dead, 
And  pleasure  fades  away. 


53 

To  cheer  this  thorny  vale  'twas  giveii, 

To  light  us  down  its  slope ; 
Like  the  bright  bow  that  spans  the  heaven, 

Is  the  sweet  charmer  Hope. 

There  is  a  plant  of  darkest  hues, 

Where'er  it  sends  its  breath, 
The  rose's  leaves  around  it  strews, 

And  dooms  the  flower  to  death. 

Oft  in  the  cypress  shade  it  grows, 

Or  nursed  by  cankering  care, 
In  the  sad  soil  of  human  woes — 

It  is  the  weed  Despair. 

E'er  he  your  every  joy  infest, 

Oh,  root  the  spoiler  up ; 
And  kindly  cherish  in  your  breast. 

The  smiling  cheerer  Hope. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  L A -. 

In  mournful  numbers,  urg'd  by  friendship's  call, 
To  let  the  tears  of  sacred  memory  fall, 
Fain  would  I  strive ;  but  language  fails  to  tell, 
How  much  I  lov'd  my  friend,  how  true,  how  well ! 
Come  hither,  then,  ye  sympathetic  souls, 
Down  whose  wan  cheeks  the  tear  of  memory 

rolls ; 
Ye  who  have  lost  a  parent,  husband,  wife, 
Or  child,  the  stay  of  your  declining  life — 
Come  join  my  sorrowing  lay,  let  fall  a  tear, 
'Tis  friendship's  voice  demands  the  tribute  here ; 

5* 


Tis  not  of  age,  worn  down  with  care  and  gnei, 
Who  welcome  death,  to  bring  a  kind  relief; 
'Tis  not  of  childhood,  in  its  tender  bloom, 
Consign'd  an  early  victim  to  the  tomb, 
Demands  my  verse — but  here  'tis  mine  to  trace 
Maturity — adorned  with  every  grace, 
Happy,  in  wedlock's  silken  fetters  tied, 
Lately  with  mirth  we  haiPd  the  blushing  bride : 
With  joy  elate,  we  wish'd  her  many  a  day, 
But  ah!  too  soon  these  joys  have  fled  away! 
As  sinks  the  summer  sun  behind  a  cloud, 
So  early  death  our  brightest  hopes  enshroud. 
One  year  had  scarce  elaps'd,  one  hasty  year, 
E'er  death  approach'd  to  stop  her  fond  career. 
An  infant  daughter  to  the  world  consigned, 
Its  mother's  image  may  it  bear  in  mind : 
That  sweet  simplicity,  that  native  grace. 
Those  artless  smiles  that  animate  the  flee, 
Conspicuous  still,  in  thy  lov'd  form  I  see. 
Oh  could  I  draw  a  portrait  just  like  thee ! 
Which  thy  companion,  with  a  falling  tear 
Might  deign  to  own,  and  see  his  Lydia  here . 
Yet  vain  the  attempt  to  set  her  graces  forth, 
Her  modest  virtues,  her  intrinsic  worth ; 
I  fondly  trust  her  soul  in  heaven  now  shares . 
A  recompense  for  all  her  former  cares  ; 
Where,  if  anticipation  finds  a  place, 
She  waits  in  hopes  to  see  her  partner's  face ; 
To  bid  him  welcome  to  the  realms  above. 
To  share  the  transports  of  immortal  love  ; 
Where  death  no  more  can  enter  to  destroy 
The  bright  fruition  cf  immortal  joy. 


AN  EVENING  CONTEMPLATION— 1800. 

While  glittering  lamps  adorn  the  sky, 
And  solemn  silence  reigns  around, 

And  the  wide  world  in  slumbers  lie, 
Wrap'd  in  a  stillness  most  profound. 

Now  far  above  yon  glorious  sphere, 
Let  waking  fancy  take  her  flight ; 

Nor,  wrapt  in  darkness,  linger  here, 
But  mount  those  glorious  hills  of  light. 


There  view  the  wond'rous  worlds  on  high. 

Mark  the  bright  planets  roll  along, 
Traverse  the  wide  expanded  sky, 

Or  listen  to  the  seraph's  song ; 

Or  trace  the  fair  Elysian  bowers, 
Or  thro'  ambrosial  grottos  rove, 

To  seek  Josiah*  crown'd  with  flowers, 
Tuning  his  golden  harp  of  love. 

But  fancy  flags,  her  pinions  fail, 
And  down  again  to  earth  she  flies, 

Nature  too  strong  will  yet  prevail, 
And  all  the  lovely  prospect  dies- 

*  A  little  brother, 


56 

TJien  cease,  vain  muse!  no  more  explore 
What  heaven  in  wisdom  has  conceal'd! 

But  still,  with  reverence  adore 

The  power  who  has  enough  reveal' d ! 

Who,  in  impenetrable  shade, 

Has  hid  from  us  the  world  to  come ; 

Futurity  in  clouds  array'd, 

In  mystery  is  our  future  home. 

Yet  heaven  is  just  and  righteous  still, 
Its  wise  decrees  we  must  adore ; 

The  mystic  mazes  of  its  will, 
Are  not  for  mortals  to  explore. 


TO  H.  J.  C. 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HER  TWIN  BOYS 

Sweet  innocents !  so  soon  set  free 
From  life  and  all  its  misery, 
And  free'd  from  all  the  pain  and  woe, 
That  we  poor  trav'lers  yet  must  know  ; 
With  soul  unstain'd,  each  little  breast, 
Sunk  gently  into  endless  rest. 
Wrhile  still  upon  each  beauteous  face, 
Of  death,  there  scarce  appear'd  a  trace 
Placid  and  beautiful  they  shone, 
Fair  as  the  little  inmates  flown ; 
Dear  babes!  tho'  fond  affection  still 
Oft  wanders  to  (he  lonely  hill, 


57 

To  mark  where  side  by  side  you  lie, 
And  o'er  your  little  hillocks  sigh ; 
And  tho'  the  silent  tear  may  fall, 
Yet  not  to  mourn  your  early  call — 
Nor  would  I  wake  your  peaceful  nap, 
Even  from  your  mother  earth's  cold  lap, 
But  seek  the  path  that  leads  to  joy, 
And  there  embrace  each  lovely  boy. 


Tranquillity  of  Mind  desirable, 

Whate'er  of  life,  its  joy  or  woe, 

Shall  be  my  lot  to  find ; 
One  blessing  bounteous  God !  bestow. 

And  I  shall  be  resigned. 


I  ask  not  wealth,  nor  yet  a  name 
Among  the  sons  of  earth ! 

I  bid  adieu  to  love  of  fame, 
And  ask  superior  worth. 

I  ask,  ah  grant  it,  God  of  power? 

A  calm  unruffled  mind ; 
A  soul  serene  as  evening  hour, 

Unmoved  by  breath  of  wind. 

Oh  teach  me  how  to  rule  my  mind 
That  rolling,  boisterous  sea ! 

Teach  me  that  solid  good  to  find 
Which  only  flows  from  thee ! 


58 

Oh  give  me  wisdom  to  pursue 

The  path  for  me  designed ; 
And  shed  thy  heavenly  light  anew 

In  my  bewildered  mind. 

Teach  me  with  patience  to  sustain, 

Each  trial  whilst  I  lire ; 
To  know  that  every  aid  is  vain 

But  that  which  thou  can'st  give.    » 

Teach  me  humility  to  learn, 

And  every  pride  subdue; 
Teach  me  thy  precepts  to  discern, 

And  with  my  might  pursue. 

Expel  the  foes  that  wound  my  peace, 
Those  inmates  of  the  breast ; 

Thou !  who  can'st  bid  the  billows  cease, 
Can  lull  my  fears  to  rest. 

Those  gaudy,  transient,  pleasing  forms, 

That  fancy  paints  so  gay, 
Are  followed  by  repeated  storms, 

That  sweep  the  charm  away. 

Must  human  weakness  then  out-weigh 
The  strength  by  heaven  design'd ; 

Hence!  vain  delusive  dreams!  away! 
Nor  more  disturb  my  mind. 

Be  heaven  my  hope ;  and  centred  there. 

May  my  best  wishes  tend ; 
Calmly  the  ills  of  life  I  bear,     * 

When  God  shall  be  my  friend. 


.59 


THE  DESIGN  OF  AFFLICTIONS, 

A  sovereign  Father,  wise  and  good, 
By  trials  can  the  soul  refine ; 

'Tis  thus  he  deals  us  better  food, 

And  bids  his  sun-beams  cease  to  shine. 

Then  all  the  flow'ry  pride  of  spring, 
A  gloomy  wilderness  appears ; 

In  vain  the  birds  melodious  sing, 

No  more  their  pleasing  music  cheers. 

Perhaps  some  idol,  in  the  heart 
Has  found  a  temple  soft  and  fair ; 

Has  bid  each  nobler  guest  depart, 
And  holds  unsway'd  dominion  there. 

'Tis  thus  the  sovereign  Lord  of  love, 
Blasts  all  our  hopes  and  vain  desires, 

Till  he  our  idol-guest  remove, 
Till  but  to  him  our  heart  aspires. 

'Tis  his  to  humble  whom  he  please, 
By  means  to  all  the  world  unknown : 

'Tis  his  to  rob  the  heart  of  ease, 
That  he  designs  to  make  his  own. 


60 


On  the  sudden  Death  of  Sarah  V . 

And  is  poor  Sarah  gone  ?  her  noon-day  bright 
How  soon  obscured  beneath  the  gloom  of  night ! 
Ah !  sudden  transit  from  health's  cheerful  bloom 
To  the  cold  dampness  of  the  silent  tomb. 
Circled  around  by  all  her  little  group 
Who  claimed  her  care,  or  raised  the  smile  of  hope.: 
Counting  perhaps  on  many  a  pleasing  day 
E'er  death  should  call  to  summons  her  away; 
In  fancy's  eye  her  little  flock  appears, 
The  joy  and  stay  of  her  declining  years ; 
And  oft  amidst  her  toil,  sweet  hope  would  say, 
4i  These,  by  affection,  shall  those  toils  repay/' 
But  ah !  how  vain  is  every  hope  below, 
Swift  flew  an  arrow  from  a  hidden  bow — 
Sudden  upon  her  cheeks  the  roses  die, 
And  on  her  trembling  lips  their  latest  sigh 
Healthful  at  morn,  surrounded  with  delight, 
A  pale  extended  corpse  before  'twas  night. 
Farewell,  poor  Sarah!  he  who  call'd,  I  trust, 
Prepar'd  for  thee  a  home  among  the  just. 


JOYS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

Joys  of  our  childhood,  oh  how  sweet 
Its  griefs  how  quickly  over, 

A  parent's  fond  caress  to  meet 
If  but  an  hour  a  rover. 


61 

With  soul  alive  to  every  charm, 
To  climb  the  towering  mountain ; 

To  trace  the  cultivated  farm, 
Or  bathe  in  crystal  fountain. 

To  hear  the  birds,  in  concert  high, 
To  view  the  lambkins  bounding ; 

The  lowing  herds,  the  zephyr's  sigh, 
The  distant  views  surrounding. 

To  feel  the  heart  expand  with  love, 

To  all  the  wide  creation ; 
Or  raised  to  him,  who  dwells  above, 

In  fervent  adoration. 

Such  are  the  joys  that  childhood  knows 
E'er  guilt  corrodes  the  bosom ; 

Such  joys  in  Eden  found  repose, 
Till  sin  had  nip'd  its  blossom. 

The  heart,  of  innocence  possess'd, 

Is  still  in  Eden  dwelling ; 
E'er  thirst  of  knowledge  fills  the  breast. 

That  breast  with  joy  is  swelling. 

It  feels  a  love  for  all  around, 

It  sees  nor  fears  a  danger ; 
"Where'er  it  roves  new  charms  abound. 

To  please  the  guiltless  ranger. 


6 


62 


A  SHOWER  DESCENDING 

See  the  parchM  earth  rejoices, 
The  grateful  showers  descend  ; 

The  birds  renew  their  voices, 
The  trees  in  homage  bend. 

To  thee !  all  gracious  giver ! 

I  too  would  raise  my  voice. 
My  dear,  my  kind  reliever, 

Commands  me  to  rejoice. 

When  all  look'd  sad  around  me, 
And  I  no  joy  could  see ; 

In  deep  distress  he  found  me, 
From  sorrow  set  me  free. 

Then  wherefore  should  I  murmur. 

Tho'  he  my  hopes  may  blight  ' 
The  Lord  of  the  Creation 

Doth  every  thing  aright. 


' 


A  CHRISTMAS  SONG. 

While  shepherd  swains  on  Bethlehem's  plai 

Their  fleecy  charge  attended, 
\n  angel  throng  with  sweetest  song. 

In  shining  forms  descended. 


G3 

Divinely  sweet  and  heavenly  bright, 
The  joyful  song,  the  radiant  glow, 

That  then  dispell  the  clouds  of  night, 
And  bid  unbounded  peace  to  flow. 

Go,  shepherds !  rule  the  prince  of  love, 
Go  find  your  sovereign  in  a  stall ! 

He  left  the  glorious  realms  above, 
To  succour  you — to  succour  all ! 

The  shining  host  again  ascend, 
In  heaven  eternal  praise  to  sing ; 

The  shepherds  cease  their  flocks  to  tend; 
And  seek  their  saviour  and  their  king. 

When  lo!  a  star,  unknown  before, 
Shone  brightly  in  the  eastern  sky; 

The  sons  of  wisdom  thence  explore, 
And  found  their  infant  Saviour  nigh. 

Rejoice,  the  Saviour  reigns  above ! 

The  babe  of  Bethlehem  now  is  king! 
Accept,  dear  Lord,  our  songs  of  love, 

Since  we  thy  glorious  birth  day  sing. 


LINES 

"WRITTEN  UNDER  BODILY  AFFLICTION 

"  My  faded  cheek  the  hues  disclose, 
Of  yellow  autumn  soon  to  fall." 

Lord!  help  me  o'er  the  thorny  maze 

Thou  hast  appointed  me  : 
And  the  small  remnant  of  my  days 

May  I  devote  to  thee. 


64 

My  earthly  hopes,  thou'st  laid  them  low. 

And  thorns  for  roses  given ; 
Oh !  grant  beyond  the  thorn  of  woe, 

A  fadeless  rose  in  heaven. 

Then  shall  I  ne'er  regret  the  loss 
Of  earth's  poor  fading  flower ; 

Shall  meekly  bear  affliction's  cross, 
Supported  by  thy  power. 

This  languid  frame,  this  aching  head, 

This  palpitating  breast, 
Shall  soon  beneath  the  turf  be  laid, 

In  everlasting  rest. 

But  while  I  tread  this  thorny  maze. 

Though  short  perhaps  'twill  be. 
This  little  remnant  of  my  days 

May  I  devote  to  thee. 


AUTUMN. 

Hail  Autumn !  with  thy  yellow  leaf, 

Nipt  by  the  early  frost ; 
Thou  mind'st  me  of  the  hues  of  grief. 

The  rose  of  summer  lost. 
The  rose  of  summer  yet  will  bloom, 

And  shed  new  sweets  around ; 
The  faded  tree  its  green  resume, 
But  for  the  charms  that  grief  consume. 

No  spring-time  shall  be  found. 


65 

Yet,  Autumn !  tho'  thou  look'st  like  grief, 

And  mournful  sigh  thy  wind, 
Though  sear'd  and  faded  is  thy  lea£ 

In  thee  some  joys  we  find. 
The  sprightly  song,  the  gay  attire, 

No  more  enchant  the  ear,  the  eye, 
Yet  thou  dost  serious  thoughts  inspire, 
Soft'nest  the  soul  with  gentler  fire, 

And  kindly  lifts  our  views  on  high. 


Thoughts  during  a  Thunder  Storm  at  Night. 

Be  still,  my  thoughts — hark!  o'er  the  world 
The  thunder  rolls — the  livid  flame  descends, 
And  with  thick  flashes  lights  the  darkness  round — 
While  the  loud  roar  each  slumb'ring  being  wakes, 
Tremendous  crashing  o'er  the  cottage  roof. 
The  dog,  with  piteous  cry,  an  entrance  craves, 
Cringing  and  shivering  at  the  bolted  door ; 
While  in  the  woods  the  coming  tempest  roars, 
Fraught  with  a  deluge  of  descending  rain 
That  in  loud  torrents  pours,  and  finds  its  way 
Through  every  little  space.    Be  calm,  my  fears! 
Oh!  thou  Eternal  Ruler  of  the  heavens! 
Who  bids  the  thunder  roll,  and  lightning  flash ; 
Dispel  those  fears,  for  thou  alone  can'st  guide 
The  fatal  shaft  along,  and  can'st  direct 
The  direful  bolts  where  to  descend  and  strike! 
How  awfully  sublime!   while  o'er  mid-heaven 
Rolling  majestic !  Oh !  how  eased  mv  breast 


66 

When  in  the  distant  east  I  see  thee  blaze, 
And  view  with  pleasure  what  so  late  I  feared ; 
Thy  distant  roaring  lulls  me  to  repose, 
And  freshen' d  breezes  make  mv  slumbers  sweet. 


TO  SARAH  AND  MARY  E 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THEIR  MOTHER. 

Poor  sufferer!  thy  sorrows  are  ended, 
Thy  fears  can  no  longer  oppress ; 

Thy  spirit  I  trust  has  ascended, 
A  mansion  of  rest  to  possess. 

Thy  life  was  a  scene  of  probation, 
But  now  is  thy  spirit  set  free ; 

And  I  trust  that  the  God  of  salvation, 
Has  purchas'd  that  blessing  for  thee. 

How  sweet  is  the  rest  of  the  mourner, 
How  easy  that  bosom  of  pain, 

Xo  longer  on  earth  a  sojourner, 
No  fears  shall  molest  her  again. 

No  longer  assail'd  by  temptation, 
The  power  of  the  tempter  is  o'er ; 

The  body  has  lost  its  sensation, 
The  spirit  now  lives  to  adore. 

Poor  sufferer !  to  me  tho'  a  stranger, 
Thy  sorrows  my  bosom  oppress'd ; 

I  rejoice  thou  art  now  out  of  danger, 
And  art  gone  to  a  mansion  of  rest. 


67 


THE  NEGRO  BOY. 

O'er  the  ocean's  smooth  bosom  the  moon  was 
soft  gleaming, 
As  poor  little  Saddi  on  deck  took  his  stand ; 
Down  his  cheeks,  wan  with  sorrow,  the  tears 
were  fast  streaming, 
As  he  cast  the  last  look  at  his  dear  native  land. 


Oh,  my  Father  and  Mother!  ah!  why  are  we 
parted  ? 
Why  thus  am  I  cruelly  borne  o'er  the  wave  ? 
Ah!  why  is  the  white  man  so  base  and  hard 
hearted  ? 
Whose  Saviour,  they  say  come  to  seek  and  to 
save. 


But  was  it  for  love  that  they  cruelly  sought  me, 
While  I  watched  off  the  birds  from  our  field  of 
grain  ? 
Ah  !  was  it  for  love  that  afar  they  have  brought 
me? 
Ah  no !  my  poor  mother,  their  motive  was  gain. 

In  vain  shalt  thou  look  for  thy  Saddi,  at  even  ; 

In  vain,  for  thy  boy,  the  good  kouskous  prepare* 
Or  watch  the  dark  clouds  that  advance  o'er  the 
heaven, 

And  fear  the  big  tempest  will  fall  to  his  share 


68 

But,  ah!  the  dark  storm,  in  the  skies  that  is 
scowling, 
Has  mercy's  sweet  sun-beams    conceal'd  in 
its  gloom ; 
And    the   lion    is    generous,   tho'    hungry    and 
prowling, 
But  man,  in  his  breast,  has  for  mercy  no  room. 

And  yet,  they  are  Christians,  the  white  men  oft 
tell  us, 
And  speak  of  a  Saviour  of  mercy  and  love ; 
And  does  that  kind  Saviour  e'er  bid  them  to 
sell  us, 
Or  can  he  the  acts  of  such  children  approve  ? 


On  the  Death  of  E.  S ,  aged  87  years. 

Poor  solitary  one !  o'er  thy  lone  beir, 

No  friendly  eye  lets  fall  the  sorrowing  tear. 

No  tender  sister,  leaning  o'er  thy  bed, 

Wiped  thy  moist  eyes  or  rais'd  thy  drooping  head. 

No  child,  no  brother,  no  kind  kindred  left! 

Of  all  that  earth  calls  happiness  bereft ; 

Thy  shatter' d  frame,  by  age  and  sorrow  wore, 

"Was  all  that  thou  possess'd  of  worldly  store. 


Alas!  the  sad  thought,  from  my  parents  to  sever! 

Ah!  who  from  the  hand  of  these  Christians  can 

save? 

And  shall  I  ne'er  see  thee  my  mother!  oh  never! 

His  heart  burst  with  grief,  and  he  sunk  in  the 

wave. 


69 

That  shattered  frame,  accounted  little  worth, 
A  long  protracted  cumberer  of  the  earth. 
Poor  solitary  one !  forlorn  thy  lot, 
By  man  forgotten,  not  by  God  forgot ; 
Thy  soul,  released  from  its  cold  clog,  I  trust?" 
Through  Christ's  redeeming  love  has  joined  the 
Just. 


SONNET 

ON  THE  DEATH  OP  A  LITTLE  BROTHER. 

Remembrance  often  brings  to  mind  the  scene,, 
And  recollection  oft  renews  the  smart, 

And  rends  my  bosom  fresh  with  anguish  keen, 
While  thy  dear  image  clings  about  my  heart 

But  still  I  feel  no  reason  to  repine, 

Or  murmur  at  the  will  of  righteous  heaven ; 

Thy  change  was  happy,  sorrow  still  is  mine, 
My  grief  is  such,  I  trust  to  be  forgiven. 

It  is  not  grief  that  still  I  think  of  thee,  . 

Dear  little  one  that  was  so  early  blest ; 
"Twas  mercy's  gentle  hand  that  set  thee  free, 

And  took  thee  home  to  everlasting  rest. 

Oh !  may  thy  sister  meet  thee  on  that  shore, 
Where  sorrows  cease,  and  tears  shall  be  no  more ! 


TO  A  FRIEND. 

Accept  dear  girl,  my  thanks  sincere. 

For  all  thy  toil  and  trouble  here ; 
The  cause  no  doubt  is  deep  impress'd. 

And  ever  will  be,  on  my  breast 


70 

May'st  thou,  with  other  friends  so  kind. 
Reward  for  all  your  goodness  find ; 
Warm  gratitude  shall  ever  be, 
For  all  your  kindness  felt  by  mc. 


LINES  IN  MEMORY  OF  F- 


Dear  valu'd  friend,  farewell! — till  virtue  dies, 
Till  every  sense  of  gratitude  expire, 

Thy  memory  many  a  feeling  heart  shall  prize, 
And  what  they  cannot  imitate,  admire. 

From  works  to  a  reward  thy  spirit  goes, 

For  works  like  thine  a  blessing  must  attend ; 

'Twas  thine  to  sooth  affliction's  keenest  woes, 
In  thee  the  friendless  sought  and  found  a  friend. 

Favour'd  with  health,  with  means  by  heaven  sup- 
plied, 

'Twas  thine  aright  those  talents  to  improve ; 
By  thee  the  kind  relief  was  ne'er  denied, 

Thy  days  were  spent  in  offices  of  love. 

Thy  numerous  family  their  loss  deplore, 

Thy  neighbours  miss  thee  at  the  bed  of  pain, 

Where  thou  can'st  minister  relief  no  more; 
But  cease — our  loss  is  her  eternal  gain. 


CHRIST  THE  SURE  REFUGE. 

Oh  Father  Supreme!  may  these  scenes  of  pro- 
bation, 
These  pains  and  these  sorrows  attract  me  to 
thee ; 
Oh  help  me  to  bow  in  the  humblest  prostration, 
And  grant  in  affliction  true  patience  to  me. 

Oh  grant  this  poor  heart  what  alone  can  relieve  it, 
Can  teach  all  its  restless  emotions  to  cease ; 

Infuse  thy  sweet  love,  make  it  soft  to  receive  it, 
And  speak  the  wild  waves  into  calmness  and 
peace. 

For  why  do  I  struggle,  since  naught  it  availeth  ? 

My  strength  is  exhausted,  my  spirits  are  gone ; 
My  heart  and  my  flesh  are  grown  languid  and 
faileth, 

Ah !  where  is  the  rock  I  should  anchor  upon. 

I  cast  my  eyes  round  o'er  the  wide  rolling  ocean, 
There  all  was  a  scene  of  confusion  to  me ; 

I  raise  my  eyes  up,  but  the  clouds  in  commotion, 
With  tempests  of  thunder  and  lightning  I  see. 

Ah!  where  shall  I  fly,  midst  the  waves  thus  con- 
tending, 
My  strength  is  exhausted,  no  port  can  I  see  ; 
When  lo !  a  sweet  voice  like  music  descending, 
Breathed  soft  through  my  heart,  "  Fly  poor 
sinner  to  me." 


72 

And  I  must  fly  to  thee,  thou  rock  of  all  ages! 

Or  sink  in  the  fathomless  depth  of  the  wave: 
The  hope  of  thy  mercy  my  terror  assuages, 

Thy  strength,  not  my  own,  is  sufficient  to  save. 

For  oh!  I  am  weak  and  rejoice  that  I  feel  it, 
And  deep  are  the  wounds  sin  has  made  in  my 
soul; 

But  thou  hast  the  balm,  and  stands  ready  to  heal  it, 
And  can  bid  a  poor  sinner  to  rise  and  be  whole. 


Prayer  for  Victory  over  Sin. 

Lord!  help  me  to  subdue 
The  rebel  in  my  breast ; 

My  feeble  strength  renew. 
And  give  my  spirit  rest. 

I'm  weary  of  the  fight 
With  my  rebellious  foes, 

Oh !  put  the  host  to  flight ! 
Oh  come  and  interpose. 

Without  thy  healing  hand, 
My  feeble  efforts  fail ; 

I  find  I  cannot  stand, 
My  foes  will  yet  prevail. 

Dear  Saviour  from  above  1 

Expel  the  rebel  sin, 
\nd  with  thy  host  of  love. 

Oh  come  and  enter  in. 


73 


A  CHRISTMAS  PIECE  WRITTEN  1827. 

All  hail!    glorious  morning!   the  brightest  that, 

ever 
Bid  darkness  and  shade  from  thy  radiance  to 

sever ! 
The  star  of  the  east  is  still  beaming  to  guide  us, 
To  him  whom  our  God  did  in  mercy  provide  us. 

Still  peace  is  proclaim'd,  and  good  will  to  man- 
kind 

Is  extended  to  all  who  their  tribute  shall  bring ; 

Who,  by  seeking  aright,  soon  the  manger  shall 
find, 

And  present  the  best  off  ring,  their  hearts,  to  their 
king. 

Our  hearts  let's  present  him,  in  humble  prostra- 
tion, 
Proud  self  and  its  treasures  lay  low  at  his  feet ; 
'Tis  humility  breathes  forth  that  pure  adoration, 
That  from  a  meek  Saviour  acceptance  shall  meet. 

Then  let  us  adore  him,  as  king  and  as  Saviour, 
And  welcome  his   birth-day  with  songs  to  his 

praise  ; 
Let  us  strive  to  be  like  him  in  future  behaviour. 
And  merit  his  love,  by  our  love  to  his  ways, 

{ 


74 


ADDRESSED  TO 


Should  want  e'er  stare  you  in  the  face, 
And  poverty,  (that  sad  disgrace!) 

Your  portion  be ; 
Should  love  of  independence  then> 
Induce  you  to  take  up  the  pen, 

As  it  does  me — 

Should  languid  sickness  you  alarm. 
And  link,  in  poverty's,  his  arm, 

So  weak  and  frail ; 
Upon  a  dark  autumnal  night, 
Should  they  their  forces  all  unite, 

You  to  assail — 

Oh  then  may  you  a  friend  possess, 
Disposed  as  you  have  been  to  bless, 

With  kindness  true ; 
Who  will  a  hand  of  friendship  lend, 
Your  prose  or  rhyming  ware  to  vend* 

And  thus  help  you. 

Such  measures  as  we  mete,  'tis  said. 
Shall  to  ourselves  be  also  weighed, 

Jn  balance  just ; 
And  such  as  you  have  dealt  to  me, 
With  vast  addition  soon  will  be 

Your  own  I  trust. 


75 


A  STORM  AT  SEA. 

The  sun  had  sunk  in  golden  bed, 
In  all  his  brightest  splendor ; 

While  the  full  moon  her  lustre  shed, 
So  modest,  soft,  and  tender. 

The  skies,  without  a  speck,  were  blue> 
With  golden  lamps  suspended ; 

And  all  around,  in  distant  view, 
The  skies  and  seas  seem  blended. 

On  the  broad  bosom  of  the  deep, 
The  gentle  moon-beam  dances, 

The  silent  billows  seem  to  sleep, 
As  slow  the  ship  advances. 

With  hearts  of  mirth,  the  sailors  gay, 

Upon  the  deck  assemble 
To  dance  the  evening  hours  away ; 

But  soon  with  fear  they  tremble. 

An  old  experienced  seaman  saw 

Far  on  the  wide  horizon, 
A  little  speck  which  fiU'd  with  awe, 

The  assembled  throng  surprising. 

lie  mark'd  it  to  the  blithesome  crew. 
Whose  mirth  was  quickly  blighted; 

And  dark  and  darker  soon  it  grew, 
And  stoutest  hearts  affrighted. 


70 

And,  e'er  the  midnight  hour  had  past, 
The  helmsman  cried  full  loudly, 

But  soon  they  from  their  beds  were  cast. 
Ah,  who  could  then  look  proudly  ? 

The  proudest  hearts  that  hour  were  low, 
The  stoutest  hearts  did  tremble, 

To  whom  they  then  their  help  would  ow«i 
They  dare  not  one  dissemble. 

But  he  who  rides  upon  the  winds, 

And  rules  the  stormy  ocean, 
Who  in  his  grasp  the  tempest  binds, 

And  calms  the  waves  commotion — 

'Twas  his  good  pleasure  then  to  save, 
(To  show  his  power  unbounded :) 

Those  sons  of  folly  on  the  wave, 
Whom  danger  late  surrounded. 

Ye  sons  of  Neptune !  brave  and  free, 
Ah !  were  you  free  from  sinning ! 

While  you  a  Father's  mercies  see, 
Ah,  why  so  hard  in  winning? 

You  see  the  wonders  of  his  power, 
When  o'er  the  deep  ye  rove ; 

And  oft  in  dangers  threat'ning  hour, 
The  wonders  of  his  love. 


■ 

77 


THE  WILLOW  TREE. 

Where  the  willow  stoops  to  kiss  the  ground. 

Before  the  cottage  door, 
JT\vas  there  my  happy  childhood  found 

The  joys  I  find  no  more. 

The  willow  long  ago  is  dead, 

But  still  the  cot  is  seen ; 
While  all  that  made  it  dear  is  laid 

Beneath  the  church-yard  green. 

The  robin  still,  upon  the  spray, 
J)elights  the  listening  swain ; 
The  chattering  wren  with  ceaseless  lay. 
The  dove  in  mournful  strain. 

But  robin-redbreast,  on  the  tree, 

Nor  dove  in  woodland  green, 
Nor  little  wren  have  charms  for  me, 

Nor  all  my  native  scene. 

Yet  once  no  heart  more  warmly  beat 

To  nature's  artless  strain, 
While  listening  on  the  willow  seat, 

Or  rambling  o^er  the  plain. 

Empty  the  seat  beneath  the  tree, 
When  evening  shades  the  vale, 

Sad  desolation  seems  to  be 
The  breath  of  every  gale. 


78 

Yes!  desolation  to  my  heart, 

Since  all  I  lov'd  are  fled ; 
Scenes,  that  could  once  such  joys  impart, 

Seem  like  the  owners,  dead. 

But  ah,  not  dead !  ye  daily  live 

In  this  sad  heart  of  mine ; 
Ye  are  not  dead,  for  I  believe 

In  brighter  worlds  ye  shine. 

To  those  fair  worlds  of  light  and  love- 
May  I  in  time  repair ; 

For  here  forlorn  and  sad  I  rove, 
In  this  dark  world  of  care. 

And  late  upon  the  verge  of  time, 
With  trembling  heart  I  stood ; 

Beheld  in  view  the  eternal  clime, 
Yet  fear'd  the  darksome  flood. 

Why  should  I  fear  the  gloomy  wave 
That  you  have  cross'd  before  ? 

While  he  who  died  my  soul  to  save.. 
Can  bid  it  cease  to  roar. 


THE  ANT  HILL. 

On  a  sunny  moorland  bright, 
Beside  the  pathway  fair, 

A  spacious  ant-hill  rose  to  sight. 
And  many  an  ant  was  there. 


79 

The  little  busy  careful  train, 
That  rear'd  the  mound  so  high, 

Had  stor'd  it  well  with  yellow  grain, 
From  out  a  field,  hard  by. 

An  aged  ant  stood  at  the  door, 

He  seemed  the  sire  to  be ; 
And  long  he  look'd  across  the  moor, 

The  youthful  group  to  see. 

Well  loaded  with  their  spoil,  at  length, 

He  saw  his  children  near, 
And  some  had  loads  beyond  their  strength, 

As  plainly  did  appear. 

l*  Well  done  my  children,"  cries  the  sire, 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you  come ; 
Your  industry  I  much  admire, 

Where  do  your  brothers  roam  ? 

';  Why  have  ye  left  upon  the  plain, 
Your  brothers  weak  and  small  ? 

I  greatly  fear  your  love  of  gain, 
By  might,  has  taken  all. 

u  Though  I  your  industry  approve, 
As  you  with  strength  are  blessed, 

Yet  when  I  see  you  void  of  love, 
Your  avarice  I  detest. 

u  And  must  my  feeble  ones  expire, 

With  hunger's  pinching  call  ? 
Go  naughty  children  back  retire, 

And  give  them  share  of  ail. 


80 

*  For  should  the  generous  farmer  know, 

The  avarice  you  have  shown, 
His  blessing  he'd  no  more  bestow, 

But  tread  our  ant-hill  down. 

"  Perhaps  to  try  you,  he  has  thrown 

Some  handfuls  in  your  way  : 
But  since  you  gave  your  brothers  none, 

He  loves  you  less  than  they. 

41 1  know  him  well,  for  when  a  child 

I  tug'd  his  bounteous  store ; 
And  oft  on  me  he  kindly  smiled, 

And  bid  me  come  for  more. 

"  Then,  little  ant,  tho'  thou  hast  come, 

To  glean  my  field  alone, 
Yet  when  thou  bear'st  the  treasure  home, 

Don't  call  it  all  thy  own. 

11  Oh!  let  not  avarice  steel  thy  breast! 

Would'st  thou  my  favor  see, 
That  when  with  sickness  thou'rt  oppress'd, 

Thy  friends  may  toil  for  thee." 


TO  DEBORAH  E.  C . 

Dear  semblance  of  a  dearer  one  ! 
Now  from  my  sight  forever  gone ; 
These  jetty  locks  his  own  display, 
E'er  sorrow  turned  the  black  to  grey 


81 

Those  eyes  expressive  of  delight, 
Are  his,  e'er  sorrow  dim'd  their  light ; 
Those  smiling  features  are  his  own, 
Who  now  is  to  the  dust  gone  down. 

But  ah !  I  need  not  thus  to  trace 
His  features  in  thy  cheerful  face ; 
These,  deep  on  memory's  page  T  view 
Engraved  in  love's  unchanging  hue. 
His  playful  smile  in  younger  years; 
His  gloom  when  in  the  vale  of  tears  j 
These  oft  before  my  fancy  wake, 
And  bids  me  love  thee,  for  his  sake. 

Though  for  his  sake  I'd  love  alone, 
I  love  thee,  dear  one,  for  thy  own  1 
Be  thine,  my  dear,  his  brighter  day, 
Be  thine  the  charms  he  did  display ! 
On  thee  may  heaven  his  worth  bestow. 
Be  thine  his  joy,  without  his  woe. 
This  parting  kiss,  my  dear  one,  take! 
And  love  its  giver  for  his  sake. 


A  SONNET. 

In  the  rosy  west,  when  the  sun  was  low, 
And  the  rage  of  the  tempest  had  ceased, 

The  promise  of  mercy  was  seen  in  the  bow 
That  bent  over  the  gloom  of  the  east. 


82 

It  spake  not,  but  still  in  its  hue  did  appear. 

The  promise  it  meant  to  convey ; 
Presaging  the  morrow  as  lovely  and  clear. 

As  'twas  stormy  and  dismal  to  day. 

And  thus  when  my  journey  comes  near  to  a  close, 
May  the  tempest  in  calmness  subside ; 

iVIay  the  rainbow  of  hope  o'er  my  bosom  repose, 
As  immortal  and  mortal  divide. 

While  the  bow  of  sweet  promise  bends  over  the 

gloom, 
Then  how  glorious  the  morning  that  opes  from 

the  tomb. 


TO  AN  INFANT. 

■Sweet  is  the  dawn  of  life!   how  sweet  to  thee! 

Whose  little  guiltless  breast  no  sorrow  knows  • 
How  sweet!   reclining  on  thy  mother  s  knee, 

And,  'midst  caresses,  sinking  to  repose; 
Yes !  thou  wert  blest,  could  those  dear  moments 

last, 
But  soon,  my  love,  those  happy  days  are  past. 


Thoughts  on  recovering  from  Sickness,  1827. 

On  time's  remotest  verge  I  stood, 
Where  Jordan  rolle  1  his  awful  Hood; 
I  view'd  the  waters,  dark  and  deep, 
The  swelling  surjje,  the  margin  steep  ; 


8S 

I  inarkM  the  billows  lash  the  shore. 
1  beard  the  winds  tremendous  roar; 
Expecting  every  surge  that  passed, 
To  be  from  time's  frail  tenure  cast : 
Witn  aching  head  and  throbbing  breast, 
I  looked  toward  the  land  of  rest ; 
Beyond  the  stream  I  cast  my  eyes, 
In  hopes  to  see  sweet  hills  arise, 
To  view  the  fair  cnamel'd  coast 
Where  time  in  ^ndless  bliss  is  lost, 
But  mists  of  gloom  involved  the  shore. 
That  blooms  beyond  old  Jordan's  roar ; 
While  thus  with  trembling  heart  I  stood, 
Close  on  the  margin  of  the  flood, 
A  little  star  arose  to  sight, 
Twinkling,  amid  the  gloom  of  night, 
The  mists  of  darkness  felt  the  ray, 
Though  faint,  it  cheer'd  the  darksome  way, 
And  fair,  before  my  wondering  eyes, 
The  beauteous  hills  of  Canaan  rise ; 
So  sweet,  so  bright,  so  heavenly  fair, 
That  naught  impure  can  enter  there. 
I  view'd  my  garments  by  the  light, 
And  found  them  far  from  pure  and  white. 
Though  long  I'd  strove  to  make  them  so, 
The  thought  did  but  augment  my  woe  •, 
I  still  beheld,  with  all  my  toil, 
They  yet  retained  an  earthly  soil ; 
As  filthy  rags  they  seemed  to  be, 
That  ne'er  could  win  a  heaven  for  me. 
When,  lo !  to  cheer  my  anxious  sight, 
The  gloom  expands  a  broader  light, 
I  saw  a  heavenly  form  descend, 
'Twas  mercy's  self,  the  sinner's  friend'- 


84 

He  bade  me  cast  my  robrs  aside, 
And  take  the  garment  he'd  provide; 
From  death's  cold  margin  rais'd  me  up, 
And  trim'd  afresh  the  lamp  of  hope; 
Restored  my  strength,  relieved  my  pain, 
And  sent  me  back  to  life  again. 


THE  FLOWER  OF  THft  DESERT. 

"J1  was  in  a  lonely  wilderness, 
A  pretty  little  wild-flower  grew ; 

It  cheer'd  a  heart  in  deep  distress, 
And  raised  the  power  of  hope  anew* 

In  Parke's  despairing  breast. 

In  Afric's  desert  land, 

When  every  fount  was  dry, 
lie  sunk  upon  the  burning  sand, 

He  sunk  him  down  to  die. 

But  as  he  cast  his  eyes  around, 
He  spied  thee,  pretty  little  flower! 

And,  at  that  moment,  hope  was  found 
To  cheer  this  trying  hour. 

The  hand  that  sheds  its  dews  on  thee. 

Poor  little  solitary  thing, 
That  hand  he  cried  will  care  for  me, 

And  in  the  desert  ope  a  spring; 
And  these  parch'd  lips  again  shall  taste 
Fresh  waters  in  the  burning  waste. 


85 


ADDRESSED  TO  A  FRIEND. 

Accept  my  thanks,  altho'  so  late  expressed,  ^ 

But  genuine  goodness  never  asks  parade, 

And  oft  conceals  beneath  a  modestWiade, 
The  hand  whose  warmth  cxpands^he  grateful 
breast. 


Such  goodness  to  the  heart  is  ever  dear, 

And  of  far  greater  worth  than  splendid  show, 

It  owns  the  hand  that  thus  delights  to  cheer. 
Nor  lets  its  fellow  hand  the  secret  know. 

rTis  like  the  modest  stream  that  silent  flows. 
Yet  doth  its  fertilizing  powers  renew 

Tiie  drooping  plants  that  near  its  margin  grows. 
And  give  their  languid  shades  a  sprightlier  hue. 

While,  in  return,  their  fragrant  leaves  are  strewed 
As  tributes  small,  yet  all  they  have  to  pay ; 

Thus  I  my  friend,  from  sense  of  gratitude. 
Ask  thy  acceptance  of  this  humble  lay. 


FRIENDSHIP. 

There  is  a  balm  whose  cordial  glow, 
Can  warm  the  grief-chill'd  heart  of  woe- 
Can  light  the  expiring  lamp  of  hop<^ 
And  raise  the  care  worn  spirits  nn 


86 

That  balm,  tho'  oft  exposed  to  view, 
With  balsams  of  like  scent  and  hue. 
Yet  to  discriminate  them  right 
Requires  the  use,  and  not  the  sight. 
The  one  has  virtues,  nam'd  above, 
The  more  we  use,  the  more  we  love ; 
While  this,  that  is  not  genuine  balm, 
May  serve  awhile  our  fears  to  calm, 
May  ease  our  pains  and  promise  high. 
While  the  bright  sunny  beams  are  nigh. 
But  only  let  the  tempest  lour, 
Your  cordial  balsam  soon  grows  sour ; 
And  then,  tho'  highly  prized  before, 
'Twill  only  make  you  ache  the  more, 
And  will,  unless  you  soon  forsake 
Its  use,  your  hearts  with  coldness  break ; 
While  genuine  friendship,  pure  and  warm. 
Is  still  the  same  in  rain  or  storm ; 
By  length  of  age  no  ferment  fears. 
But,  like  good  wine,  improves  with  year? 


A  FAREWELL  TO  THE  YEAR   181 7. 

Adieu !  with  thy  time  stealing  train, 

Of  months,  and  weeks,  and  hours,  and  days, 

Another  year  is  born  again, 

And  ushered  with  resplendent  ray?. 

Nor  in  oblivion  sinks  the  past, 
But  still  on  memory's  record  sta. 

Ah!  many  a  precious  moment  past, 
The  tear  of  dcen  regret  demnnd* 


87 

Though  swill  the  winged  hoin-3  have  fled, 
Or  sunk  among  departed  years ; 

Yet  when  I  think  how  ill  I've  sped, 
Can  scarce  restrain  the  falling  tears. 

The  year  preceding  this  that's  past, 
Was  witness  to  affliction's  train  ; 

Then  many  a  pleasure  was  laid  waste, 
And  many  a  pleasing  hope  was  slain. 

Though  more  propitious  thou  hast  been, 
Yet  heaven  in  mercy  deals  the  rod ; 

To  show  the  aspiring  heart  its  sin, 
To  raise  the  humbled  soul  to  God. 

Almighty  power!  to  thy  control 
May  all  my  future  hopes  be  given; 

With  thy  pure  wisdom  fill  my  soul, 
And  help  me  in  the  path  to  heaven. 


There  is  a  bliss  enjoyed  below, 

That  makes  the  wilderness  rejoice ; 

That  makes  the  streams  of  gladness  flow, 
And  turns  to  songs  the  mourner's  voice. 

But  that  sweet  peace  is  ne'er  possessed, 

Till  smiling  conscience  lights  the  breast. 


88 


Verses  written  on  the  banks  of  the  Susquehanna 
River. 

The  sun  has  sunk  behind  the  western  mountain, 
And  Cynthia  rising,  glimmers  thro'  the  trees ; 

Along  the  valley  glides  the  moss-edg'd  fountain, 
Scarce  ruffled  by  the  gentle  evening  breeze. 

While  from  the  window,  distant  views  command- 
ing, 

Delightful  scenes  the  ravish'd  eye  surveys, 
The  broad  majestic  river,  wide  expanding, 

Like  a  smooth  mirror  in  the  moonlight  rays. 

Hail  lovely  scenes !  where  nature  wild  displaying 
Her  gay  romantic  prospects  to  my  view ; 

And  while  my  raptur'd  eye  those  charms  survey- 
ing, 
In  vain  my  pen  would  paint  thy  beauties  too. 

As  late  upon  thy  rocky  shores  I  wandered. 

Or  climb'd  thy  highest  summits  with  delight, 
My  pensive  heart  on  absent  scenes  have  pondered, 

While  my  dear  home  in  fancy  rose  to  sight. 

Friends  of  my  youth!  tho'  fir  from  you  I  sever, 
While  on  these  disjjint  lonely  shores  I  rove, 

Yet  my  fond  heart  must  clfng  to  you  forever, 
Drawn  by  the  chords  of  nature's  strongest  love. 


89 

Here  on  the  mountain's  brow,  by  trees  o'ershaded, 
Where  the  young  fawn  a  fearful  distance  keeps ; 

Poor  innocent,  by  cruel  sportsmen  jaded, 
Into  the  green  entangled  thicket  creeps. 

Here  might  the  fairy  tribe  delighted  linger, 
Here  might  the  muses  fix  their  fav'rite  seat ; 

Here  the  soft  turtle  dove  that  pensive  singer, 
Soothes  with  sweet  melody  this  wild  retreat. 

Here  might  the  hermit,  by  yon  sloping  mountain, 
Muse  on  the  charms  of  nature  with  delight ; 

Sooth'd  by  the  murmuring  of  the  crystal  fountain, 
Lull'd  by  the  song  of  fisher-men  at  night. 

To  hear  the  little  boats,  by  moon-light  sailing, 
Or  soothing  horn  the  echoing  hills  resound ; 

Or  timid  deer  on  the  green  herbs  regaling, 
Or  briskly  bounding  o'er  the  distant  ground. 

Here  might  the  social  heart,  to  care  a  stranger, 
\Vith  those  beloved  the  fleeting  moments  spend; 

Here  might  the  solitary  grief  worn  ranger, 
Life's  round  of  ills  in  contemplation  end. 


THE  NEGRO. 

The  mighty  power  who  laid  this  wond'rous  plan, 
And  gave  a  bright  immortal  soul  to  man, 
A  world  of  blessings,  active  limbs  to  move, 
A  mind  to  reason,  and  a  heart  to  love ; 
8* 


90 

The  various  passions  that  delight  or  pain, 
And  cheerful  hope  life's  evils  to  sustain  ; 
The  love  of  liberty  he  gave  to  all, 
From  throne  of  monarchs,  to  the  cottage  small. 
All  feel  the  power,  tho'  tyrant  custom  sways, 
"Which  oft  the  mind  reluctantly  obeys ; 
The  soul  unfetter'd  scorns  a  tyrant's  nod, 
And  bows  to  no  one  but  its  maker  God. 
Tortur'd  with  stripes  and  smarting  with  fresh  pain. 
Hear  the  poor  negro,  destitute,  complain  ; 
Down  his  sunk  cheek  the  tears  in  torrents  roll, 
While  bursts  of  anguish  rend  his  manly  soul. 
Back  to  his  native  home,  fond  memory  flies, 
And  fancy  views  each  scene  with  streaming  eyes  ; 
His  childish  sports  on  Gambia's  fertile  shore, 
The  cooling  palm-shade,  when  his  toil  was  o'er ; 
His  tender  parents,  or  companions  dear, 
Brother  and  sister,  claim  the  unceasing  tear. 
Ye!  who  pretend  humanity  to  know, 
Do  not  your  bosoms  feel  a  pang  of  woe? 
Come  paint  the  scene !  let  fancy  draw  it  near ! 
And  for  the  friendless  drop  one  friendly  tear. 
View  him,  dejected,  hopeless  to  get  free. 
Lost  in  his  soul  each  manly  energy. 
Oh,  education!  could  thy  rays  extend 
To  the  poor  negro,  now  without  a  friend, 
Thou  could'st  his  dormant  faculties  refine, 
And  Afric's,  as  Columbia's,  sons  would  shine. 
The  great,  the  universal  sire  of  all 
Bestows  his  bounteous  gifts  on  great  and  small.; 
Colour  and  shape  alike  his  bounty  prove, 
He  chose  the  colour,  and  delights  to  love : 
Without  whose  will  a  sparrow  cannot  fall, 
To  the  poor  African  extends  his  call ; 


91 

And  tho'  against  them  cruel  man  combines. 
In  heaven  their  souls  with  equal  lustre  shines. 


TO  H.  J.  C- 


By  her  Friend  and  Sister  E.  C — ~- 

With  every  wish  my  bosom  glows, 

To  see  a  sister  blest ; 
May  health,  may  plenty  and  repose 

And  peace  upon  her  rest! 

That  peace  that  far  out-weighs  the  joy 
This  transient  world  can  give  ; 

For  here  unnumber'd  ills  array, 
And  hopes  too  oft  deceive. 

Lord!  pour  thy  blessings  on  my  friend, 
Thy  richest  favours  shower ; 

And  guide  her  to  the  journey's  end 
Of  time's  remotest  hour. 

Teach  her  obedience  to  thy  way 

Is  happiness  alone ; 
Oh  never  let  her  footsteps  stray, 

As  mine  have  often  done. 

Oh !  teach  her  in  the  path  divine, 

Her  little  flock  to  lead ; 
And  condescend  with  food  of  thiner 

Their  infant  souls  to  fQe<\, 


92 

Grant  her  the  wisdom  from  above 
That  council  can  impart ; 

Let  soft  affection  win  the  love, 
That  soothes  a  mother's  heart. 

The  little  charge  to  thee  consigned. 

By  one  forever  gone ; 
Oh,  by  affection  seek  to  bind, 

And  strive  to  make  thy  own. 

The  arduous  task  performed  arigin 
Will  lasting  peace  bestow  ; 

And  give  thee  favour  in  his  sight 
From  whom  all  favours  flow. 


PERKIOMIXG. 

Where  towers  the  green  hill  o'er  the  stream. 
That  down  the  vale  is  foaming  ; 

From  the  great  fuss  it  makes,  "twou'd  seem 
A  more  than  Perkioming. 

It  minds  us  of  some  little  folks, 
That  spring  from  tiny  fountain ; 

ft  rears  its  cedars  and  its  oaks, 
High  towering  on  its  mountain. 

And  when  it  gets  a  fresh  supply 

From  bounteous  clouds  that's  teeming. 

it  grows  so  insolent  and  high 
And  acts  with  pride  unsceming. 


93 

For  raging  oft,  like  furious  pest, 
(In  all  its  anger  foaming) 

Till  lost  in  Schuylkill's  gentler  breast 
Is  noisy  Perkioming. 


TO  MARIA  T- 


As  droops  the  flower  beneath  the  untimely  blast, 
Thus,  poor  Maria!  all  thy  hopes  have  flown ; 

The  hand  of  death  has  laid  thy  prospects  waste, 
And  cropt  the  flower  of  hope,  so  newly  blown. 

But  ah !  my  friend,  what  are  our  hopes  below, 
But  transient  flowers  that  gild  a  summer's  day  } 

Awhile  they  charm  us,  then  the  tempests  blow, 
And  every  little  leaf  is  blown  away. 

Then  blank  and  comfortless  the  world  appears. 
And  the  poor  heart,  of  every  joy  bereft, 

Feels  not  a  pleasure,  views  no  sight  that  cheers, 
Yet  has  even  then  one  source  of  comfort  left. 

One  cheering  source  of  comfort  yet  remains 
To  allay  the  anguish  of  the  wounded  heart ; 

?Tis  mild  religion  pointing  to  the  plains 

Of  endless  bliss,  where  friends  shall  never  part. 

Thither,  Maria,  let's  pursue  our  way, 

For  ah !  this  life  abounds  with  many  a  care- 
Its  joys,  its  hopes,  its  friendships,  what  are  they. 
But  glittering  bubbles  that  dissolve  in  air  ? 


94 

Let's  look  beyond  this  thorny  vale,  to  find 
Relief  from  sorrows  that  we  here  must  know  . 

Yet  he  who  wounds  us  has  the  power  to  bind, 
And  sweeten  if  he  please  our  cup  of  woe. 

Oh  1  may  he  prove  thy  guardian  and  thy  friend. 

And  grant  thee  comfort  in  thy  infant  boy ; 
And  when  thy  life  and  all  its  troubles  end, 

To  meet  thy  J in  the  realms  of  joy. 


TRIALS. 


Trials  come  to  wean  fond  nature 
From  a  world  we  love  too  well. 

Each  afflictive  dispensation, 
Tell  us  here  we're  not  to  dwell. 

In  us  there's  a  spark  of  heaven, 
Early  childhood  feels  its  glow ; 

Which,  when  death  dissolves  the  body 
To  its  native  heaven  will  go. 

There  no  thorns  are  mix'd  with  roses, 
There  no  skies  are  overcast ; 

There  are  streams  of  boundless  pleasures. 
Pleasures  which  forever  last. 

There  the  cherubims  in  glory, 
Shout  Jehovah's  praise  around  ; 

There  each  little  smiling  cherub, 
Joins,  with  golden  harp,  the  sound. 


95 

There  no  sun  nor  moon  are  needed, 
There  the  great  eternal  king, 

Fills  that  glorious  place  with  brightness, 
Clothes  it  in  eternal  spring. 

There  the  just  receive  a  mansion, 
Drink  the  fulness  of  delight ; 

Let  us  seek  that  happy  country. 
Be  our  helper,  Lord  of  might ! 


FRIENDSHIP. 

Friendship  of  earth,  tho'  heavenly  born, 
The  sweetest  rose!  the  sharpest  thorn, 

That  rose  does  oft  contain : 
Oh !  for  the  friendship  of  the  skies, 
That  fragrant  rose  that  never  dies, 

Nor  bears  the  thorn  of  pain. 


Lines  addressed  to  a  Friend  who  was  going  to 
teach  the  Indians. 

The  sweet  reward  that  waits  the  just, 
When  life's  rough  pilgrimage  is  o'er, 

Will  be  thy  happy  lot,  I  trust, 

When  landed  on  Emanuel's  shore. 

Those  who  for  Jesus's  sake  forgo, 

Parents,  and  kindred,  house  and  home, 

With  peace  he  will  reward  below, 
And  give  them  endless  bli$s  to  come. 


96 

Tho'  forced  o'er  rugged  paths  to  ride, 
And  leave  a  much  lov'd  home  behind. 

Jesus  will  be  thy  guard  and  guide, 
In  him  a  faithful  friend  thou'lt  find. 


Go  spread  the  glorious  gospel  far, 
And  tell  poor  Indians  of  his  love : 

Then  go  and  shine  in  heaven  a  star 
Of  the  first  magnitude  above. 


M  V erfect  love  casteth  out  Fear.' 

No  forced  obedience,  Lord !  can  find 

Acceptance  in  thy  sight ; 
Nor  yet  the  selfish  wish,  designed 

To  make  our  burden  light. 

That  perfect  love  before  whose  ray. 

Our  fears  and  frailties  flee ; 
Save  that  which  only  ought  to  sway. 

That  of  offending  thee. 

I  covet,  more  than  aught  beside, 
To  feel  the  heavenly  glow ; 

Were  I  of  earthly  crowns  supplied. 
I'd  let  the  trifles  go. 

As  pants  the  heart  beneath  the  bean?. 

Of  Phcebus's  scorching  ray, 
To  taste  the  pure  and  limped  stream 

His  thirsting  to  allay — 


97 

So  pants  my  heart  to  feel  that  love* 
That  can  from  fear  set  free ; 

Can  every  selfish  wish  remove, 
And  bid  each  rival  flee. 

If  at  a  distance,  yet  so  great, 
Its  charms  so  sweetly  shine ; 

What  joyful  tidings  I'll  relate, 
Should  e'er  the  prize  be  mine. 

But  ah !  how  high  the  barriers  rise^ 
That  all  removed  must  be, 

E'er  I  can  drink  those  pure  supplies 
That  would  from  sorrow  free. 


RESIGNATION. 

We  should  not  repine  let  things  go  as  they  may, 
A  morning  of  clouds  may  turn  out  a  bright  day  ; 
And  the  night's  ne'er  so  long  but  the  morn  will 

return, 
Hence  let  us  a  lesson  of  fortitude  learn ; 
Though  present  afflictions  are  painful  to  bear, 
When  the  heart  is  o'erloaded  with  sorrow  and 

care, 
Let  us  bear  the  hard  burden,  'twill  soon  be  laid  by,. 
And  grant  us  a  smile  for  each  heart-rending  sigh. 
For  why  should  we  murmur,  or  long  to  be  dead. 
A  world  full  of  blessings  before  us  is  spread ; 
The  trees  are  in  blossom,  the  valleys  are  green? 
All  speckled  with  daisies  the  meadows  are  seen ; 

9 


♦98 

T he  brook  murmurs  softly  along  the  green  vale, 

And  the  sweetest  of  perfumes  are  borne  on  the 
gale ; 

Though  man  is  a  mourner  and  nothing  is  sure, 

But  the  hope  of  a  future,  the  present  to  cure; 

Then  let's  hold  on  our  journev,  whate'er  may  be- 
fall, 

And  still  trust  in  the  gracious  disposer  of  all ; 

Tho'  the  clouds  may  hang  o'er  us,  and  billows 
may  roll, 

Still  sweet  hope  is  an  anchor  of  rest  to  the  soul. 


SIMPLICITY. 

My  muse  is  Simplicity's  child, 

Her  robe  the  young  verdure  of  May, 

She  had  pick'd  a  few  flowers  from  the  wildf 
To  make  her  young  tresses  look  gay. 

While  the  dewy  drops  trembled  around, 
Bright  as  pearls  in  the  blush  of  the  dawn ; 

This  nymph  of  the  valley  I  found, 

Young  and  wild  as  the  beautiful  fawn. 

Tho'  shy,  she  look'd  smiling  at  me, 
And  I  join'd  her  with  youthful  delight, 

And  she  still  my  companion  will  be, 

Tho'  the  shades  seem  to  lengthen  for  night. 

And  she  still  her  young  garment  will  wear, 
Though  it  does  not  become  the  brown  shade. 

Which  her  comrade  whom  sorrow  and  care, 
Has  in  robes  of  November  array'd. 


99 

Still  her  voice  on  the  breath  of  the  gale, 
Is  heard  in  soft  notes  to  extend ; 

And  when  evening's  rude  tempests  assail, 
She  deserts  not,  but  cheers  her  old  friend. 

Tho'  advanc'd  as  a  matron  to  view, 

She  still  is  Simplicity's  child ; 
Her  robes  still  retain  their  young  hue, 

And  her  garland  the  flowers  of  the  wild. 


Why  is  it  thus,  oh  thou  whose  presence  fills 
Immensity  ? — why  is  it  thus  in  vain 
I  seek  to  feel  thee  near? — thy  outward  courts 
In  vain  I  search  for  thee — what  mists  are  there 
That  hides  thee  from  my  sight  i  oh  much  desired, 
Why  stand  aloof  from  me  ?  Where  shall  I  go 
To  find  this  chief  among  ten  thousand  loves, 
Rendered  more  lovely  as  my  only  hope. 
And  wilt  thou  fail  me  too  ? — Oh  I  would  give 
Ten  thousand  worlds,  were  they  at  my  command, 
For  one  sweet  smile  from  thee — 
My  locks  are  moistened  with  the  dews  of  night, 
For  I  have  sought  thee,  at  the  darksome  hour, 
And  in  thy  courts  have  sought  the  only  fair, 
But  oft  I  seek  in  vain— then  let  me  turn, 
And  seek  thee  in  the  temple  of  my  heart, 
And  then  go  out  no  more ! — 
There  I  have  often  found  thee,  when  retired 
Within  my  humble  home,  or  as  I've  roved 
The  crouded  street,  have  felt  the  living  coal 
Upon  thy  altar,  raised  within  my  heart, 


100 

And  there  have  offered,  what  thou  gav'st,  to  thee. 
Oh,  drive  far  hence  the  guests  that  oft  intrude, 
And  with  distractions  rend  what  would  be  thine ; 
Would  bring  the  firstlings  of  its  little  flock 
And  thy  own  flame  should  light  the  sacrifice. 
The  only  offering  that  thou  wilt  approve. 


VICISSITUDES. 

There  was  a  time,  nor  far  removed  the  date, 
When  fortune's  tide  was  low — perhaps  e'en  now 
Remembrance  may  recall  those  trying  hours, 
When  the  strong  wind  seemed  mustering  all  its 

force 
To  drive  the  waters  back,  and  left  the  beach 
All  dry  and  parch'd  beneath  the  noon-tide  ray. 
Who  lent  a  hand,  who  help'd  in  times  of  need, 
Thy  shatter'd  bark  that  grounded  in  the  sand, 
With  all  its  lesser  boats,  and  kept  them  moist, 
Till  more  auspicious  breezes  turn'd  the  tide, 
And  sent  thee  floating  on  a  prosperous  stream? 
Fortune  is  fickle — but  there  is  a  hand 
That  makes  or  unmakes  fortune  as  he  please ; 
And  tho'  I  too  with  little  slender  skiff, 
Long  on  the  beach  have  been,  yet  still  I  trust, 
Or  seek  to  trust  in  him  who  rules  the  tides, 
That  tho'  the  stream  is  low,  yet  not  quite  dry, 
And  e'er  the  sun-beams  drink  it  quite  away, 
Will  turn  the  wind,  and  on  the  swelling  tide 
Set  me  afloat  again,  and  bear  e'er  long 
My  feeble  bark  into  the  port  of  rest, 
That  lies  beyond  the  sight,  beyond  the  fear 
Of  sad  vicissitudes. 


101 


TO  MARY. 

Sweet  poetess !  thy  heavenly  strains, 

Exalt  the  soul  to  scenes  above ; 
Or  melt  the  heart  in  tender  pains, 

Or  warm  it  with  seraphic  love. 

Yes,  Mary !  when  in  notes  so  sweet, 
Thou  speak'st  of  cares  that  once  were  thine., 

I  find  my  heart  responsive  beat, 

And  feel  the  woes  that  still  are  mine. 

And  oh !  I  trust  that  heavenly  sire, 
On  whom  thou  call'st  thy  friend  to  be, 

Answer'd  in  love  each  warm  desire — 
Oh !  that  he  thus  would  favor  me. 

Thou  now  art  free'd  from  all  thy  pains, 
And  gone  in  happier  worlds  to  dwell  • 

To  chant  in  heaven  thy  tender  strains, 
Then  Mary  dear,  farewell !  farewell ! 


9* 


102 


The  following  pieces  are  the  production  of  a  young- 
female  of  this  city,  lately  deceased,  and  one  or  two 
of  them  have  appeared  in  print — a  sister  of  the  au- 
thoress has  given  me  permission  to  subjoin  them  to 
my  own. 


THE  CHASE. 

Hark !  the  huntsman's  cheerful  horn, 
That  swells  upon  the  breeze  of  morn ; 
Echo  starts  from  yonder  rock, 
The  bugle's  mellow  notes  to  mock, 
And  louder  she  prolongs  the  strain, 
And  sends  the  sound  o'er  hill  and  plain. 

Start  from  your  covert,  timid  roe! 
Shrill  Echo  warns  you  of  your  foe ; 
Tis  the  huntsman's  horn  and  hound, 
With  which  her  mimic  lays  resound  j 
And  every  woody  dell  they  fill, 
To  wTarn  you  of  impending  ill. 

His  horn  again  the  huntsman  blew, 
Again  was  heard  the  shrill  halloo, 
Again  the  hounds  extend  their  throat* 
And  Echo  mocks  their  hollow  note ; 


10S 

And  every  hill  and  wood  and  plaiu* 
Itepeats  the  mingled  notes  again. 

The  mid-day  sun,  now  at  its  height, 
Check'd  the  impetuous  huntsman's  flight ; 
Tired  of  the  unavailing  chase, 
He  sought  some  sweetly  shaded  place, 
Where  thro'  the  turf  the  streamlet  stray'd, 
And  music  in  the  woodlands  made. 

Sweet  was  tihe  scene!  a  rustling  breeze 
Play'd  through  the  interwoven  trees, 
And  with  the  stream  a  concert  made, 
That  woo'd  the  huntsman  to  the  shade. 
And  lull'd  him  to  that  sweet  repose, 
That  chas'd  his  pleasures  and  his  woes. 


Oh!  when  Will  my  sorrowful  pilgrimage  cease. 
And  this  v/ild  throbbing  heart  beat  to  anguish 
no  more, 
When,  when  shall  I  greet  the  sweet  haven  of 
peace, 
Oh !  when  shall  I  land  on  eternity's  shore. 

Soon  may  the  summer-wind  sigh  thro'  the  willow, 
And  wave  its  dark  shade  o'er  the  grave  of  my 
woefj ; 
',  Soon  may  my  weary  head  find  on  earth's  pillow 
A  seaf  on  of  rest,  a  sweet  night  of  repose 


104 

Yet  still  there's  a  thought  waking  rapture  moat 
sweet, 
As  it  thrills  through  the  heart  with  an  holy 
emotion ; 
rTis  the  thought  that  reviews  the  sweet  home 
where  we  meet, 
When  time  shall  be  lost  in  eternity's  ocean. 


Written  on  the  evening  of  the  IUnmination  for 
Perry's  Victory. 

Ah !  cease  that  clamorous  bell's  distracting  sound» 
Think  you  the  hero  triumphs  in  its  noise  ? 

In  all  those  glittering  tapers  is  there  found 
One  emblem  that  portrays  a  hero's  joys  ? 

Can  Perry's  breast  alone  feel  selfisi  bliss, 
Weeps  not  his  heart  in  pity  o'er  the  slain  ? 

Ah !  can  he  triumph  in  a  scene  like  this, 

When  memory  paints  the  conflict  o'er  again  ? 

But  selfish  bliss  the  hero  cannot  feel, 
A  nation's  joy  awaits  the  glorious  (ieed ; 

And  Perry's  breast  shall  sound  a  graUful  peal 
To  Him,  who  had  the  victory  decreed. 

A  chasten'd  rapture,  Perry,  fills  thy  breast, 
Thy  sacred  tear  embalms  the  heroes  slain ; 

The  gem  of  pity  shines  in  glory's  crest 

More  brilliant  than  a  diamond  wreath  of  fame. 


10J 


ANTHEM, 

Glory  to  God  on  high? 
Earth  and  skies,  loud  reply" 
Raise  your  glad  voices  high  ■ 
Glory  to  God! 

Who  spread  the  azure  sphere' 
Where  countless  gems  appear, 
Each  does  his  power  declare-*- 
Glory  to  God! 

Glory  to  God  on  high! 
Who  spread  the  morning  sky., 
Bright  to  the  adoring  eye — 
Glory  to  God ! 

Hail !  the  young  morning  rays1, 
With  sweetest  songs  of  praise;, 
In  pure  seraphic  lays — 

Glory  to  God ! 

Glory  to  God  in  heaven! 
Who  to  mankind  hath  givewv 
The  tranquil  hour  of  even- 
Glory  to  God* 

Let  your  thanksgiving  soarf 
His  awful  throne  before, 
Jn  trembling  love  adore— 
Glory  to  God* 


ioe> 


Called  forth  upon  seeing  the  Philadelphia  Hos- 
pital, which  awoke  some  painful  recollections. 

Yon  massive  pile  that  far  extends, 
And  much  contains  of  human  woe, 

With  forceful  recollection  blends 

My  Henry's  form,  and  frenzy's  glow. 

For  once,  within  its  dreary  walls, 

My  Henry  raved,  a  maniac  wild ; 
But  reason  only  stood  appall'd 

And  quick  reclaimed  her  favorite  child. 

She  tore  from  frenzy's  wild  embrace, 

The  darling  of  her  bosom's  love ; 
And  soon  with  gentle  soothings  chas'd 

The  gloom  that  madness  makes  us  prove. 

Now  piety  inspires  his  breast, 

And  fills  his  heart  with  solemn  joy, 

He  thanks  the  power  whose  high  behest 
Wounded,  but  did  not  quite  destroy. 

Behold  his  eyes  of  sapphire  hue ! 

What  pensive  thoughts  are  there  express'd, 
They  turn  to  heaven,  with  ardour  true, 

And  there  they  seek  a  place  of  rest. 

Oh  Henry!  may  each  future  year 
Be  fraught  with  happiness  for  thee! 

And  may  health's  bloom  again  appear, 
Upon  that  cheek  so  dear  to  me. 


107 

For  these  my  heart  shall  breathe  a  prayer, 
To  one  who  can  those  gifts  bestow ; 

I'll  pray  thou  ne'er  may'st  feel  a  care 
Save  those  which  from  religion  flow. 


"He  spread  all  my  table  in  the  wilderness." 

Who  smoothed  my  pillow  when  distress'd, 
And  soothed  the  sorrows  of  my  breast, 
And  made  my  lot  in  life  more  blest  ? 
My  Father. 

Who  bade  the  springs  of  joy  to  flow, 
And  hope's  ecstatic  beams  to  glow, 
When  late  did  grief  her  shadows  throw  ? 
My  Father. 

Erst  when  the  wild  thorn  thickly  grew, 
Who  with  sweet  flowers  my  path  did  strew, 
That  all  around  their  fragrance  threw  ? 
My  Father. 

When  morning  paints  the  eastern  sky, 
With  her  celestial  roseate  dye, 
Who  wispers,  lift  th'  adoring  eye  ? 
My  Father. 

And  when  has  sunk  the  orb  of  day 
In  ocean's  bed  his  golden  ray, 
Devotion's  vows  to  thee  I'll  pay, 
My  Father. 

And  when  the  evening  veil  is  spread 
In  starry  lustre  on  my  head, 
I'll  pray,  thou'lt  always  be  my  friend 
My  Father. 


108 

That  thou  wilt  guard  me  while  I  steep 
My  senses  in  oblivion's  sleep 
Ind  for  away  all  danger  keep, 

My  Father. 

But  whether  slumber  seals  my  eye, 
Or  rapture  lifts  it  to  the  sky, 
Thy  watching  care  be  ever  nigh, 
My  Father. 

Ah,  when  forgotten  e'en  by  thee, 
Xight's  winds  across  my  grave  shall  flee, 
nho!  who  then  will  remember  me? 
My  Father. 

tYhen  the  eternal  morn  shall  break, 
When  from  death's  sleep  I  shall  awake. 
My  soul  to  thee  her  flight  shall  take, 
My  Father. 


4 


Written  on  the  Susquehanna  Bridge. 

ADDRESSED  TO  W.  M.  G — . 

Here  where  the  waters  pleasing  flow 
Wakes  contemplation's  holy  glow, 
I  fondly  think  if  thou  wert  here, 
Brighter  would  every  scene  appear ; 
Whilst  thou  art  far,  where'er  I  roan> 
I  still  must  feel  I'm  all  alone. 


n>:i5. 


